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negative effect on morale, especially among non-Syn-Ens.
    “Thirty minutes.” Keyes snapped her hand back on her wrist. “Sorry Admiral, but the pieces of hull are everywhere and the wardens are having a hard time distinguishing them from the other debris.”
    Bei’s forehead pounded from deciphering the data. “How many are lost?”
    After clicking the bits of armor back into place over her legs, the commander rose to her feet. Pain pinched her orange cast features. “Twelve darts are no longer registering. But I count only sixty life signs among the field. I’ve diverted two wardens to retrieve the crews.”
    Nodding, Bei decided against adding the additional deaths to the running tally. Syn-Ens could survive for fourteen days in open space, but they couldn’t survive any more rads than an ordinary human. A technical glitch no one had thought worth fixing. “Their radiation dose should be within tolerances by the time all are reclaimed.”
    The ladder hatch popped open. Its lid clattered against the metal floor. Civilian Montgomery Smith stuck his dark head through the octagonal opening before clawing at the grates and pulling himself up. Although he had a gash on his cheek, he appeared unharmed. No doubt thanks to being strapped into one of the chairs in the Starfarer’s storm cellar with the rest of the crew that remained on board.
    “I’ve checked the wireless array, sent some techs to repair the com system and thought I’d visit you all to see if anyone could use a good mechanic.” The Civie’s green eyes locked onto Shang’hai.
    She tossed her leg at him. A smile curved her full lips. “Repair that after you see to the captain and I expect it to be returned to me. Personally.”
    Bei raised an eyebrow at the invitation. Syn-En celebrated their survival with sex. Most humans, enhanced or otherwise, looked down on the practice, viewing it as proof of the low morals of lesser humans. Since he accepted the ritual with such ease, Smith certainly bore closer scrutiny. Not that Bei begrudged Shang’hai happiness, but the nine months on this mission punctuated the growing tensions between the Syn-Ens and the civilians.
    Smith’s eyes glittered as he caught then stroked the shapely leg. “Aye, ma’am.”
    “I’ll send you an engine update as soon as I get down there.” Shang’hai hooked her remaining leg around the opening, flopped on her belly then wiggled back into the ladder access. Her fingers fused together as they wrapped partway around the tubular ladder’s sides. After a quick glance down, she disappeared. “Look out below.”
    Her warning echoed throughout the tube.
    Using the armor to protect her hands from burning, Shang’hai would slide the four decks to engineering. Bei hoped one leg would be enough to stop her descent. He disconnected from the silent engineering port. Updates and request for intell on rescue operations clogged the WA. Com systems needed to be restored before panic set in.
    Commander Keyes wobbled to the access hatch.
    Syn-Ens didn’t limp. His communication’s officer had obviously suffered significant injuries. “How badly are you damaged, Keyes?”
    At Bei’s words, Smith looked up from his place by the captain’s still form. He quickly set the damaged limb to the side and shrugged the pack off his back. His questioning gaze drifted from the commander to the captain and back again before settling on Bei.
    Shuttering his thoughts, Bei met the civie’s gaze. The captain’s outmoded enhancements had overloaded in the second wave. All they could do now was wait until his human heart and brain gave up the fight.
    “I won’t know that until I’ve finished the self-repair algorhithms.” The commander stumbled, hitting the ground with one knee before pitching face first into the floor. Blood oozed out of the cuts on her face before they quickly scabbed over. “I don’t think I’m supposed to walk with my face.”
    Bei smiled. Leave it to his friend to find the