The Cyber Chronicles V - Overlord (24 page)

"It should be
here shortly."

"Okay, I need a
centrifuge, and venterin, cybertope and pentramil extract,
preferably double strength."

"My medics will
see to it." The doctor nodded to one of his cohorts, who hurried
off.

The medic who
watched the monitor said, "Sir, his vitals are going off the scale.
Heart rate is up to one ninety and climbing. Blood pressure is
almost two hundred over one eighty."

Tarl nodded.
"That's great. He's reacting well."

Sabre's
convulsions had lessened to periodic shudders, and he panted, sweat
pouring off him.

The doctor shot
Tarl a scandalised look. "Just how much can he take?"

"Oh, a lot more
than this. His heart is designed to cruise at two hundred and forty
during combat; his blood pressure is normal at one thirty over one
twenty, but can reach two sixty over two twenty at peak
performance, and he can withstand three hundred over two sixty
easily; his blood vessels are genetically enhanced to handle
it."

"What's his
normal temperature?"

Tarl shrugged.
"He doesn't really have one. The cyber regulates it according to
conditions, but I suppose you could say, in normal conditions at a
comfortable room temperature, and at rest, it's the same as ours.
But he can run very hot, as much as a hundred and twenty. During
tests..." He glanced at Tassin and turned away. "He's fine."

Two men entered
the cubicle pushing a strange machine with a screen and a clump of
wires. Tarl grabbed it with a glad cry, sorted through the wires to
find the one he needed and pushed it into the slot on the side of
the brow band. He switched the machine on, and an intricate blue,
white and grey dashboard appeared, with a man-shaped logo and
‘Cybercorp Combat Genetics’ emblazoned across the top in a sleek
font. At the centre of the screen, a data-capture block flashed
next to a line of writing, which read 'technical access code
entry'.

Tarl glanced
up. "What's the exact time at Cybercorp on Myon Two?"

One of the
technicians who had brought the equipment tapped a com-link.
"Fourteen fifty-two."

"Fourteen
fifty-two," Tarl muttered, rubbing his hair into disarray. "What
the hell is the code? Fourteen fifty to fourteen fifty-five...
Think, dammit." He swung around and tapped on the keyboard. The
block flashed red, and the writing changed to 'code invalid'. Tarl
swore and rubbed his head again, scowling, then tapped in another
password. Again the block flashed red, and he cursed. "Have they
changed the bloody codes?"

Swinging away,
he paced in a circle, then demanded, "Time at Cybercorp?"

The technician
consulted his com-link again. "Fourteen fifty-seven."

"Fourteen
fifty-five to fifteen hundred... I got it." He swung back to the
keyboard again, and his fingers raced over it.

The block
flashed green, and the writing changed to 'access granted'. A
series of lines scrolled up the screen, and Tarl chewed his
lip.

"Bloody hell.
Bio-status is twenty-eight per cent. Toxicity level eleven per cent
above optimum for retrograde regeneration... liver damage
irreversible in four hours... serum flush initiated... blood
production doubled... that's why his pressure's so high." He tapped
the keyboard, typing in a complex command, then read the answer on
the screen. "Gene codes E48, G73 and Y12 switched on. Excellent.
All he needs now is D10 and X14..." He frowned as more writing
scrolled up the screen, some words flashing red. "What the hell?
Emergency overload fluid flush initiated? What for?" His fingers
flew over the keyboard as he muttered, "Initiate bio-status query:
reason for emergency fluid flush."

Lines of
writing scrolled up the screen again, and Tarl stared at them.
"Exotoxin espinix unidentified... Acid! It's the acid. Shit. The
fluid flush will help; an alkaline derivative will, too." He turned
to the doctor. "Err... twenty ccs of panalin and bontril, in the
drip, now."

The doctor
nodded at a medic, who picked up a vial, drew a small amount into a
syringe, repeated the procedure with another vial, and injected the
drip. Everyone looked at Tarl again as he read the results on the
screen.

"Espinix
dropping... Good." He straightened, nodding.

"Can you
explain all that now?" the doctor enquired.

"Well, the
control unit has taken steps to compensate for the toxins in his
system, but it couldn't identify the acid. Corsairs sometimes use
their females' milk, or urine, but the stuff they were using was
green, so it might have been bile or something. Whatever it was,
Myon Two didn't have it in the database. The control unit's
switched on three regenerative genes that repair cellular damage
and nerve connectivity, and activated his auxiliary immune
response. I'm going to switch on two more to enhance his variable
genetic defence system, which will break down the toxin more
rapidly, ensuring no damage to his system."

Tassin realised
that her cheeks were wet and wiped them, finding it hard to listen
to Tarl talking about Sabre as if he was some sort of organic
machine.

A medic came in
and signalled to the doctor, who said, "Your centrifuge and
ingredients are ready."

"Good." Tarl
left with the medic, and Tassin moved closer to take Sabre's hand,
gazing down at him.

"You shouldn't
be in here, Miss," the doctor said.

"Leave her," a
deep voice commanded.

"Yes, My Lord."
The doctor bowed and withdrew.

Tassin glanced
at the Overlord, who still stood on the other side of Sabre's bed,
watching the proceedings. She forced a weak smile.

"Thank you.
Overlord Fairen?"

"Yes."

"I'm most
grateful for your help."

He unfolded his
arms and placed a gloved hand on Sabre's brow, fingering the brow
band. "He saved my life. I pay my debts."

"There are
those who would not, who even want to kill him."

His hooded head
inclined. "I know."

"If you're
going to all this trouble to help him, may I assume that you'll
also protect him?"

"You may." He
folded his arms again. "Who is the man giving all the orders?"

"Oh, that's
Tarl. He's an ex-cyber technician." She caressed Sabre's hand.
"What's going to happen to us when he's better?"

"You will be
taken to a ship that was ordered here to pick you up, and you may
continue your journey."

Tarl came back
with a syringe, shooting Fairen a wary look before going to Sabre's
side and injecting it into the drip. "There, that should do it." He
studied the monitor. "Yep, vitals dropping now. Heart rate down to
one twenty; blood pressure at one forty over one twenty. Almost
normal. Temperature one hundred and four. He's doing great."

"How long
before he wakes up?"

Tarl went over
to the machine that was plugged into the brow band and tapped on
the keyboard. "Bio-status at twenty-nine per cent. Not for a while,
I'm afraid. A day or two."

Sabre appeared
to be relaxed now, his breathing slow and deep, but sweat continued
to pour off him, forming puddles on the metal stretcher. Tarl
glanced at Tassin. "You should leave for a little while. Go get
some food, or something to drink."

"Why?"

"Well, we've
been pumping fluids into him, and it's got to come out. I'm going
to order the control unit to... you know."

"Oh. Of
course." She started to turn away, then swung back. "How can you
order the cyber to... do that if it's not in control?"

"Sabre's
unconscious. It will happen naturally soon enough, but right now
the control unit can regulate his functions."

"Right. And
then it will take over again."

"Maybe not.
It's an AI. By now it's learnt that it can't keep control of
him."

Tassin nodded
and left, finding a crewman waiting to show her to a luxurious
suite.

Chapter Sixteen

Tarl stood
beside Sabre, who now lay on a soft hospital bed, and studied the
screen on the cyber monitoring equipment. Twelve hours had passed
since they had come aboard Fairen's ship, and Tassin had snatched a
few hours’ sleep and a meal before returning to her vigil. The
cyber remained unconscious, a sheet covering him to the
armpits.

Tarl said,
"Forty-nine per cent. He should be waking up any time now."

"That's
meaningless. The cyber doesn't control him anymore," Tassin pointed
out.

"No, but it's
still a good indication of his physical condition, which governs
his mental status."

"Could you stop
talking gibberish?"

"Sorry. It
still gives us a good idea of when he'll wake up."

Tassin sighed
and stroked Sabre's arm, pleased that the ugly red marks had faded,
and his skin was its usual matt golden hue again. "I'm glad you
were here to help him."

"He would have
survived."

"With permanent
damage."

"Yeah. I once
treated a cyber who was bitten by a Corsair twice in three days.
His owner, idiot that he was, released a captive one and sent his
cybers after him for sport. The cyber hadn't received any
treatment, and he was badly jaundiced; his liver was damaged, and
his kidneys. I flushed him and switched on all his regenerative
genes, but it was too late."

"He died?"

He shook his
head. "No, it was just permanent. His system was badly weakened,
and I heard later that his owner entered him in one of those
gladiator zoo places, where a javel monster killed him."

"How
horrible."

"It was
probably a mercy."

"Would that
have happened to Sabre?"

Tarl adjusted
the drip. "Not as badly, no. He wasn't bitten. The first dose was
small, but made worse by entering through his eyes, close to his
brain. The second dose was also less than a bite, and in the leg,
which diluted it. I doubt the damage would have caused jaundice,
but it would have weakened him."

"And now he's
got no damage?"

"Nope, he's as
good as new, or he will be in a few more days."

Sabre's eyes
opened. "You're in your element, aren't you, Tarl?"

Tassin smiled
and took his hand, clasping it to her chest. "You're awake."

"For several
minutes now. It's interesting what people say when they think
you're asleep."

"I would have
told you the same thing if you'd asked," Tarl said. "I'm glad
you’re feeling better, bud."

Sabre's eyes
roamed over the equipment. "Been having fun?"

"No, actually,
it was pretty shit. I don't like seeing my friends sick."

"What did you
do to me?"

Tarl shrugged.
"Switched on a few designer genes and pumped you full of
drugs."

"You can get
out of the cyber now."

"Right." Tarl
switched off the monitor and unplugged the cable from the brow
band. "There."

"The cyber
helped to make you better," Tassin said.

"Yeah, that and
all the alterations that were made to my DNA, not to mention the
immunisation to Corsair poison. Lovely."

"If not for
that, you'd be dead."

Sabre sighed,
closing his eyes. "The wonders of modern technology. I'm a shining
example of human ingenuity. Designed to -"

"Stop it."

A slight,
bitter smile curved his lips. "Sorry. I have a splitting headache,
my stomach's trying to crawl up my throat, and my mouth tastes like
something died in it. I need a shower."

Tarl said, "You
have sixteen hours of secondary reaction time left. You're going to
feel like shit for a bit longer."

"Wonderful."

"Better than
being dead."

"I guess, but
only a little."

Tarl pressed a
button beside the bed, and the back of it rose with a soft wine,
raising Sabre into a sitting position. The cyber opened his eyes
and studied the ex-technician like he was a strange and exceedingly
ugly slug that had just crawled up his leg.

Tarl grinned.
"Neat, huh?"

"Oh, god, he's
found a new toy," Sabre muttered.

Tassin giggled,
and Sabre sat up and pulled the drip needle out of his wrist. "Tell
you what, you stay here and play with the bed; I'm going to have a
shower."

Tarl shook his
head. "I don't think that's a good idea. You're still too
weak."

"I've felt
worse."

Swinging his
legs off the bed, Sabre stood up, but his knees buckled. Tarl
caught him before fell onto the monitoring equipment, and Sabre
eyed the ex-technician as Tarl helped him to sit on the edge of the
bed again.

"I didn't know
you were this fond of me, Tarl."

"Oh yeah, I've
always fancied you, Sabre."

The cyber
chuckled, shaking his head, then glanced up as a crewman entered
the cubicle.

"Overlord
Fairen has granted a private interview to the one known as Sabre,"
he announced.

"Tell his
lordship I need a shower first."

The man raised
his chin. "You refuse?"

"I'll be there
when I've had a shower."

"Overlord
Fairen should not be kept waiting. You will come with me now."

"Make me,"
Sabre said.

The man
hesitated, then spun on his heel and left. Tarl picked up a bottle
from the bedside table and shook two pills into his hand, offering
them to Sabre with a cup of water.

"These will
help with the nausea and headache."

Sabre took them
with a nod and rose to his feet, leaning on Tarl's shoulder. With
his aid, he went to the showers located down the corridor. He
emerged refreshed, to find that his combat clothes had been
confiscated and replaced with a pair of black trousers and a tunic
emblazoned with Fairen's crest. The long hot shower had restored
some of his strength, and he waved Tarl away when he offered his
support. He made his way slowly through the ship, following a
crewman to Fairen's private chambers.