The Cyber Chronicles IV - Cyborg (25 page)

"He's just a
baby."

Sabre nodded,
stripping off the young cyber's lasers and medical pouch. "Brand
new. Only twenty years old and damned inexperienced. You don't
enter a dark cave around the side like that when you've got
infrared vision and scanners."

"Lucky for
us," Kole said.

"Yeah." Sabre
pulled off the cyber's shoes, and Tassin studied his handsome,
youthful countenance. She recoiled when Sabre held out the shoes
and said, "Put these on."

"They're too
big."

"They're
better than those stupid sandals."

Tassin took
them and sat down to remove her shoes and don the narrow boots
while Sabre searched the body for anything useful, then dragged it
further into the cave. As he dumped it in the gloom, the brow band
dimmed, the lights flashing less and less until the last one
flickered and went out.

"I guess you
did him a favour," Kole commented.

"Yeah. Let's
go." Sabre held out the dead cyber's weapons’ harness and holstered
lasers, and Kole took them with a nod.

Four hours
later, Sabre held up a hand, and Tassin stopped and leant against a
tree, her legs aching. It seemed as if they had been trudging
through the forest for days, and the dead cyber's boots chafed her
feet. Surely they were over the border by now? Kole squatted beside
her, rubbing his ankle again.

Sabre turned
to them. "There's a ship ahead. Quite a large freighter,
unarmed."

Kole groaned.
"So now we have to detour?"

"No, I want to
see who it is. Maybe they'll help us."

"We haven't
had a lot of luck with people," Tassin said.

"Whether it's
this bunch or the owner of the next estate, we're going to have to
find help from someone. Whoever this is, they don't want to be
found, or they'd be parked at an airfield. They might be willing to
give us a ride, since we can pay."

Kole dug in
his pocket and drew out the translucent wafers. "Here, I think you
should look after these."

Sabre took
them and stowed them in his medical pouch, then led them onwards.
Half an hour later he stopped again, his eyes distant.

"There's only
one man, and he's outside the ship."

"Good," Kole
muttered.

Sabre walked
on for another few metres, then paused to don the helmet before
continuing. A clearing appeared ahead, and a rusty ship filled it,
built like a box with odd protuberances and bulges. Sabre stopped
beside a tree and studied it.

"He's probably
a smuggler."

The man next
to the ship caught Tassin's attention. He sat beside a fire,
holding a sausage over it on the end of a stick.

Sabre studied
him too. "He's not armed." He turned to Kole. "Tell him the truth,
and ask for a lift off world. Chances are, he doesn't like the
moguls either."

"He must work
for them. What else is he doing here?"

"That doesn't
mean he likes them. Few do."

"And we know
why."

"Right." Sabre
gestured. "Off you go."

Kole limped
towards the ship, and Tassin hobbled after him. To her surprise and
delight, Sabre picked her up and carried her cradled against his
chest. The man looked up from his perusal of his sausage, his pale
blue eyes narrowing in a craggy, care worn face. His dark brown
hair was shorn as short as Sabre's, and a day's stubble darkened
his chin. His motley collection of clothes comprised a worn brown
leather jacket, faded grey trousers, a frayed grey shirt that might
have once, a decade or so ago, been white, and scuffed brown boots.
Despite his rough look, sharp intelligence filled his eyes, which
flicked over the trio, noting their weapons. Kole stopped a metre
away and smiled.

"Afternoon."

The man
nodded, appearing remarkably unconcerned. "Afternoon."

"We've had a
spot of trouble, and we were hoping you might be able to help."

"What sort of
trouble?"

Kole stepped
closer and held out his hand. "First, allow me to introduce myself.
Kole Arvan, and this is Tassin Alrade and... her cyber."

The man nodded
to Tassin. "Tarl Averly."

Kole lowered
his hand. "May we join you?"

"It's a free
country."

The hacker
nodded and settled on the other side of the fire. Sabre put Tassin
down, and she sat on the grass beside Kole. Tarl studied them,
doubtless noting their dirty clothes and fatigue. His eyes lingered
on the cyber's shoes on Tassin's feet, flicking to Sabre's feet.
His observant gaze also noted the lasers strapped to Kole's thighs,
and the fact that Sabre still had his set.

"So, what
trouble are you in?"

"Well, we had
a business transaction with Jerrad Mandure, after which we left his
mansion with a... some money, and he sent his cybers after us. We
crashed our air-car and hid, and we've been on the run ever since.
We were hoping to purchase a ride off world."

Tarl turned
his head and spat. "Mandure's a dog. Worse, he's an insult to
dogs."

"I tend to
agree."

"I'm sure you
do. Lucky for you, you have a cyber, and I bet he pulled your butts
out of the shit, hey?"

Kole nodded.
"Yeah, he sure did."

"What did you
do with the body of the cyber he killed?"

"Hid it in a
cave."

"Good." Tarl
studied Sabre. "Tell the poor bugger to rest, for pity's sake, and
take off that damned helmet."

Tassin glanced
up at Sabre. "Cyber, rest, and remove the helmet."

Sabre sank to
his knees and back onto his haunches, unclipped the helmet and
removed it. Tarl studied him some more, then put down his sausage
and rose, approaching him to examine him closely, noting, no doubt,
the streaks of dried sweat on his face.

"Well, you've
certainly put him through the wringer, haven't you?" He turned to
Tassin. "I bet he carried you for kilometres."

She nodded,
puzzled. "Yes, he did. You seem very concerned about him."

Tarl squatted
beside Sabre, gazing at the flashing cyber band. "Yeah, I suppose I
do."

"Will you help
us?" Kole asked. "We can pay."

"Sure, on one
condition."

"What's
that?"

"You tell me
why his control unit isn't controlling him."

Kole scowled,
and Tassin said, "I don't know what you mean."

"Sure you do."
Tarl reached for the brow band, and Sabre's hand flashed up to grip
his wrist.

"You are not
authorised to approach," he intoned.

Tarl glanced
at Tassin. "Tell me."

She gulped.
"There's something wrong with him?"

"Don't give me
that."

"How... how
could you know something like that?"

Tarl looked at
Sabre again. "Before I became a smuggler, I was a cyber tech on
Myon Two. A bloody good one. I worked there for fifteen years, then
one day I found out the truth. Cyber hosts are fully cognitive
human beings, held in torturous captivity by their control units.
It sickened me so much that I sabotaged seventy-four artificial
wombs and destroyed a hundred and fifty-four incubator pods before
they caught me and sentenced me to death by cyber kill. I
escaped."

Tassin asked,
"How do we know that's the truth?"

“
Ask him.” Tarl nodded at Sabre.

“
Is he telling the truth, Cyber?”

“
Yes.”

Tarl pointed
at Sabre’s brow band. "You see those lights on his control unit?
Well, the seven diagonal ones on the left-hand side indicate the
level of control over the host. Up to six may turn red under
extreme duress, when the host is subjected to a lot of pain, and
the control unit has to increase its power, but they're never all
red. That means the control unit no longer controls the host, so
cut the crap."

"Show us your
tattoo."

"Oh, you know
about that, huh?" Tarl smiled. "That’s classified, so how did you
find out?" He pulled open his shirt with his free hand, revealing a
flame-like red tattoo on his shoulder.

Sabre released
Tarl's wrist, and his eyes focussed on his face. "You were a
torturer."

Tarl recoiled, paling. "Bloody hell!" He gaped at Sabre,
stunned, then a slow, broad smile stretched his lips. "Bugger me
sideways! You
are
free!"

Sabre frowned.
"You knew that."

"Hell no! I
only knew your control unit was malfunctioning. And you... when you
looked at me... Shit I've never seen a cyber actually look at
someone before! I thought these two had escaped from one of
Mandure’s garden parties after pissing him off by shagging in his
champagne fountain or something, and I wanted to give them a bit of
a fright. This is amazing. How the hell did it happen?"

"Impact at
terminal velocity."

"The control
unit's broken?"

Sabre raised a
hand to finger the brow band. "Yes. Cracked."

Tarl brushed
aside his hand to peer at the band. "So it is. Right in the middle
of the control circuit. Why do you still serve them?"

Sabre glanced
at Tassin. "They freed me."

"But you
-"

"It's a long
story, and we're all hungry and thirsty."

Tassin scowled
at Sabre. "He doesn't serve us. We're friends."

Tarl jumped up
and went to the fire, hardly able to take his eyes off Sabre. He
placed a metal grid over it and threw a handful of sausages on it,
then picked up a bottle and a cup. Returning to Sabre, he filled
the cup and held it out.

"Here."

Sabre took it
and handed it to Tassin, who drained it and gave it back with a
smile.

Tarl watched
him with avid fascination. "You're normal? No side effects? No
problems?"

"I have...
problems."

Tarl held up
his hands. "No, wait, I want to hear the whole story, from the
beginning."

"Then you'll
have to ask Tassin."

"Why?"

"Because I
don't remember any of it."

Tarl's face
fell, and he turned to Tassin. Sabre poured a cup of flavoured
drink and drained it, then passed another to Kole.

Chapter Thirteen

Tarl stared
into the fire, poking it with a stick. A few minutes had passed
since Tassin finished relating the entire tale. They had consumed
all the sausages and two more bottles of cool drink, and dusk
spread gloomy fingers across the clearing. He looked up at Sabre,
and Tassin tried to read his expression, but failed.

"I can help
you."

"With the
memories?" she asked.

"With
everything." Tarl stood up, brushing grass from his trousers. "Come
aboard, it's getting dark."

Tarl led them
into the ship and along a grubby, well-worn corridor with flaking
grey walls and a floor whose black rubber matting had been worn to
bare metal in the middle. He entered a brightly lighted,
white-painted room with a mauve pseudo-leather medical examination
couch on one side, a swivelling, cushioned chair on wheels, and a
bank of odd machines against the far wall. The room had clearly
been recently repainted and upgraded, with modern glass cabinets
containing shelves full of shiny metal equipment and rows of little
bottles. Sabre paused in the doorway, eyeing the equipment.

"What's this
for?"

Tarl turned to
him. "Well, I had this crazy idea. I was going to free a cyber. I
bought one who was so badly damaged his owners were going to sell
him back to Myon Two for the retirement price. He was only
twenty-three. I failed."

"What happened
to him?"

"I gave him a
peaceful end." Tarl gazed at the couch. "He died right there on
that couch. I thought I knew enough to free him, and then he could
have helped me to free others. An impossible dream, until today,
when I saw the impossible walk into my camp. When I saw those red
lights... I couldn't believe it. I didn’t believe it, sadly,
until…" Tarl turned to Sabre and unclipped his armour. "Let's get
this off, so I can have a good look at you."

"How badly
damaged was your cyber?" Tassin enquired.

"His spine was
smashed. He was paralysed from the neck down."

"How did it
happen?"

"He was the
bodyguard of a family of rich idiots. Their three children took
their air-car for a joy ride, disconnected the anti-collision, got
horribly drunk and smashed it into a wall. The cyber was the only
survivor. The rest, apparently, had to be scraped out of the
wreckage with shovels."

"Why didn't he
stop them?" she asked, shocked.

"Cybers do as
they're told. I expect he tried to stop the car, but he was too
late, or they were too stupid to let him. Who knows? He wouldn't
tell me. All information about his past owners was classified."
Tarl removed Sabre's armour and examined him. "Well, you have been
in the wars, haven't you?"

"Enforcers are
hunting us," Tassin explained, although he knew the story.

"Please, let
him speak." Tarl took hold of Sabre's left arm and flexed his
injured elbow. "Tell me if it hurts."

Sabre looked
up at him, for Tarl was a few centimetres taller. "It hurts."

"Right." Tarl
released his arm and pulled open a cupboard, taking out a syringe
and bottle.

"What's
that?"

"Anaesthetic."

Sabre stepped
back, raising his hands. "Before you start this shit, I'd like a
bath, and so would my friends."

Tarl stared at
him. "You... of course you do." He put down the syringe. "The
washroom's down the passage, third door on the left."

Sabre left,
and Tassin watched Tarl, who gazed after him like a father watching
his son going away forever. She smiled and wandered closer.

"He's coming
back."

"What? Oh,
yeah, of course. I'm just... I'm still in shock. He speaks of
himself in the first person."