The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice

by T C Southwell

  Cyber Chronicles IX

  Precipice

  T C Southwell

  Published by T C Southwell at Smashwords

  Copyright © 2011 by T C Southwell

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  Tarl looked up as the cell door opened to reveal two scruffy men armed with lasers. He rose to his feet, helping Tassin up. The three Olgaran girls cowered in the corner, whimpering. He estimated that at least twelve hours had passed since the slavers had kidnapped them from Omega Five, but in the constant lighting the only ways to measure time were fatigue, thirst and hunger. If he was right, it meant they were, in all likelihood, a long way from home. Even that was not a certainty, however, since he had no idea if the ship had entered one or more photon corridors or how long it had spent in them.

  "Come on, out," the taller slaver said.

  Tarl put an arm around Tassin's shoulders as they exited the cell, and the girls followed, trying to hide behind them. One guard walked away along the corridor, the second man waved his weapon at them. "Follow him."

  "Where are we going?" Tassin demanded.

  "To be sold."

  "You can't, I am a queen, I -"

  "Shut it."

  Tarl tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Don't antagonise them. Remember what I said."

  The Queen raised her chin and glared at the back of the man in front of them, and Tarl hoped she would continue to heed his advice. They squeezed into the lift and travelled down, then stepped out onto a docking port entry, which stood open. A dark corridor yawned beyond the ship's bright doorway, its dull metal walls pimpled with rivets. Tassin shook off Tarl's arm and marched along it, her head high.

  The repair tech leant closer to murmur, "This is either a space station, or a bigger ship."

  "What makes you say that?"

  "Because we're docked with it, and the ship we came in isn't capable of landing."

  "So what does it mean?"

  Tarl shrugged. "Just that there's no escape here."

  A murmur of deep voices grew louder as they walked along the dim corridor that weak lights illuminated at irregular intervals. The new surroundings were more in keeping with a smugglers' environment, unlike the smart new ship they had arrived in, and the two guards looked right at home. They passed other unkempt men, who greeted the guards in a strange dialect Tarl did not understand. At the end of the corridor, they entered an immense chamber lined with catwalks against dull, pitted metal walls, the floor crowded with a motley collection of people, mostly men.

  Some were well dressed; others sported an overabundance of jewellery, but the majority looked like more smugglers and slavers. On a platform at one end of the room, a fat man stood behind a plinth, holding a gavel. Beyond him, three women waited with bowed heads. Tangled, matted hair covered their faces and torn clothes hung on them. The fat man called out numbers, and shouts came from the crowd over the background murmur as bidders made their offers. Tassin wrinkled her nose at the musky stench of unwashed bodies, casting Tarl a haughty look that made him wonder what was going on in her head.

  Their guards herded them past the crowd to a clearing beside the platform. The fat man banged his gavel and the women were led away. One of the slavers dragged the three Olgaran girls onto the stage, and the fat man demanded bids from the crowd. Tassin waited with folded arms, tapping her foot as if impatient to be sold. The Olgaran girls, younger and prettier than the last trio of women, were sold quickly and led off. A guard turned to Tassin and jerked his weapon at the platform. She shot him a scathing look and ascended the steps, but when Tarl tried to follow, the other slaver blocked his path, shaking his head.

  "Only her."

  Tassin stopped and turned. "He comes with me, or I don't go."

  "You'll go, whether you want to or not."

  "No one will want to buy a shouting, fighting woman. He stays with me. He's my servant."

  The second guard went over and muttered to the first, who shrugged and jerked his laser at Tarl. "Go."

  Tarl followed the Queen onto the platform, marvelling that her regal authority even swayed slavers into letting her have her way. Tassin walked around the stage and glared at the crowd, scanning it. The auctioneer opened his mouth and drew a breath, but she raised an imperious hand.

  "Wait." She turned to address the throng. "Only a man of noble blood may bid for me. If a common man buys me, he will perish at my hand."

  The crowd laughed, and some men called raucous insults or snide comments. Tassin studied the assembly, becoming intent on a man at the back. She pointed at him.

  "You may bid." Her gaze wandered on and settled upon another individual. "And you."

  Tarl groaned and shook his head, admiring her courage while he wondered what the outcome of it would be. The auctioneer gaped at her as she selected two more men, then nodded to him.

  "Pray continue, my good man."

  The fat man bowed with a mocking smile. "Thank you, Your Highness."

  Tassin clasped her hands before her and raised her head to gaze at the crowd as the auctioneer demanded bids. Several common looking men raised their hands, and she glared at them. One of the men she had chosen made a bid, and she cast him a slight smile and gave a regal nod. Tarl wanted to laugh, yet it was working. Less and less of the scruffy men bid for her, and two of the men she had chosen entered into a bidding war.

  At last the auctioneer banged his gavel, and Tassin was ushered from the platform as two dirty, bruised men were led onto it. The slavers took Tassin and Tarl to a chamber off the auction room, where they waited for several minutes, while their new owner to paid for them, he guessed. Tassin fidgeted, revealing how ragged her nerves really were, and he resisted the urge to comfort her, since it would spoil her regal air. The slavers who guarded them left when a tall man in rich, but understated clothes arrived to take charge of them. Tassin turned to him, and he bowed.

  "Baron Ashmond, at your service."

  She held out her hand, palm down. "Queen Tassin Alrade of Arlin, Omega Five."

  He smiled, took her hand and kissed the back of it. "An honour indeed, Majesty. How did a queen come to fall into such foul company, may I ask?"

  "I was tricked, My Lord."

  His eyes slid over her. "I am glad you came to no harm."

  "Even commoners find themselves respectful in the company of royalty, willing or no."

  "You certainly appear to be well bred, Majesty, though your attire is a little... plain. However, you have a knack for spotting noble blood, it would seem. You selected myself, Duke Jerom, Prince Ferlar, Lord Varan and Count Edriss, the only noblemen out there. Uncanny."

  "To one raised amongst noble blood, it is natural to be able to spot aristocrats. A prince would have pleased me more, however."

  "And I am just a humble b
aron, alas."

  She inclined her head. "Nevertheless, you will suffice, Baron Ashmond. At least you are a nobleman, unlike those filthy boors."

  "Indeed, and I paid a handsome price for you, My Lady."

  "Which will be reimbursed as soon as you return me to Omega Five, I assure you; plus a reward and your costs to transport me there, naturally."

  Tarl listened with growing amazement, wondering if Tassin's bold tactic was actually going to work.

  The baron shook his head. "Alas, My Lady, it is not I who purchased you. I am but a proxy."

  "Then to whom must I speak in this regard?"

  "Emperor Endrovar."

  Her brows rose. "Indeed. Then take me to him at once, My Lord. I am impatient to return to my kingdom."

  "First I must enquire as to the reason for your plain attire, Queen Tassin."

  She glanced down at her riding habit. "I was out riding when I was abducted, My Lord. I do not indulge in horse riding in a court dress, nor bedeck myself with jewels."

  "Of course." The baron gestured to the door. "Shall we? Emperor Endrovar will be eager to meet you."

  "And I him."

  Tassin headed for the door, and Tarl hurried ahead to open it for her with a bow, to enhance her claim of being royalty. The baron eyed him with a smile, followed the Queen and guided her with soft-spoken directions as they traversed several dim, shoddy passageways and passed through two fair-sized rooms, one of which appeared to be a foyer and the other a terminus. Tarl opened the doors for Tassin, and she swept through them with her head held high, causing men to step from her path in surprise. They arrived at a docking port and passed through it into a ship’s plush corridor carpeted in burgundy and hung with gossamer skeins of pale crimson silk.

  Ashmond showed them into a spacious room with carved, old-fashioned furniture, deep burgundy carpets and a surfeit of dainty porcelain brick-a-brack on numerous glass shelves and in several glass-fronted cabinets. Coats of arms adorned the cream walls, and Tarl glanced around with interest. By some lucky twist of fate, they had come across one of the rare space-faring societies that clung to a monarchical hierarchy. Several well-groomed ladies in ornate court gowns watched them pass, sipping tea from porcelain cups, their cheeks rouged and their hair piled in powdered pompadours. A group of equally powdered and bewigged men in britches and slit-sleeved jackets over ruffled silk shirts sipped glasses of amber liquid he assumed was sherry or something similar. His heart sank when he spotted the man who could only be the emperor sprawled on a vast golden throne with burgundy cushions, two near-naked girls feeding him bite-sized fruit.

  Endrovar overflowed his cream britches, royal blue smoking jacket and white silk shirt, his enormous gut almost reaching his knees. Gold tassels, buttons and medals ornamented his outfit, and gold chains and bracelets were almost hidden by bulging flesh. His broad, pugnacious face clearly had no trace of royal blood. A broken nose and cauliflower ear told of past violence of the pugilistic sort. Two cybers stood behind the throne, clad in smart burgundy and gold uniforms. They were about Sabre's age, and Tassin stopped and stared at them, clearly disconcerted. Recovering, she swept up to the throne and inclined her head to the obese emperor, who eyed her.

  Tarl bowed low, making himself inconspicuous. Endrovar chewed a fruit, spat a pip onto the floor, and belched.

  "So, Ashmond, what did you buy me today? This looks like a fine little strumpet, but she has a bad attitude by the looks of it."

  The baron bowed. "The best of a bad lot, Your Grace; she claims to be a queen."

  Endrovar guffawed. "Does she indeed? How..." He frowned, searching for the right word, then snapped his fingers. "Presumptuous!"

  "Indeed, Your Grace."

  Tassin cast Ashmond a frown and muttered, "This is a man of low blood, Baron. Is this a jest?"

  "Ah, well, Emperor Endrovar was not born into royalty, but lays claim to his title by dint of his vast wealth."

  "That much is obvious. Did he purchase his title, or make it up?"

  "A bit of both." Ashmond smiled. "And I'm afraid he has too much money to be tempted by your offer of a reward for your return."

  Tassin smiled and addressed the massive man. "You must be a clever man indeed, Your Grace, to amass such great wealth."

  Endrovar beamed. "Ah, I like her already, Ashmond. Indeed, little lady, I am very clever. I was once a fighter, believe it or not. A good one, too. I won many bouts, and then my luck got even better. My fortune is thanks to these little guys here." He gestured to the cybers. "You see, I was almost past my prime when I stumbled across one in a smuggler's den."

  Tarl sensed all the people in the room sag with boredom, including Ashmond, and gathered that this tale was one Endrovar told far too often.

  "On my home world, and several others in my quadrant, cybers were unknown," Endrovar went on, warming to his tale. "I had some money saved, and, after seeing a demonstration, I bought one. I made a cunning disguise to hide the head band, and entered him in fights with normal men. Do you know anything about cyber-bio combat units?"

  Tassin inclined her head. "I am familiar with them, Your Grace."

  "Ah, good. Well then, you can imagine how well I did, with prize money and bets. I was raking in the dough hand over fist. My little guy was unbeatable, yet so small that all the big guys wanted a piece of him. I won every fight, no one could beat him. Of course, neither of these is him; he was retired and returned a few years ago. But I still make an occasional fortune when someone is stupid enough to challenge my fighters."

  "A cunning plan indeed, Your Grace. You are to be commended for such astute thinking," Tassin murmured.

  "Aren't I, though? I only wish I had discovered them sooner. Ah well, soon enough, I suppose." His brown eyes raked her. "Well, you are a pretty little thing. Ashmond, get her some nice clothes, then she'll have dinner with us."

  Ashmond bowed. "As you wish, Your Grace."

  Tassin preceded him to a side door at his gesture, and Tarl went ahead to open it for her. They entered a smaller room furnished with a garish gold and green lounge suite, a gaudy purple and green bedroom visible through a door in the far wall.

  Tassin turned to the baron. "You did not convey my offer to him."

  "He won't accept it, My Lady. Whether or not you're a real queen, as you claim, he's more interested in you than he is in more money."

  She frowned. "He is an uneducated lout."

  "He owns planets."

  "What does he want with me?"

  Ashmond cast her a puzzled look. "He likes pretty girls, what else?"

  "Surely he has a surfeit of them?"

  "He gets bored easily. He'll sell you in a few weeks, never fear."

  "I am betrothed, My Lord."

  The baron smiled. "Alas, you do not have a choice. He owns you."

  "I will purchase my freedom."

  "You're not for sale, at any price."

  "I can offer... a service, other than that which he wants of me."

  Ashmond tilted his head. "And what might that be?"

  Tassin cast Tarl a pleading look. "My servant. He is a cyber tech; he will care for Endrovar’s cybers in return for my... being left alone."

  Ashmond turned to study Tarl, who straightened from his subservient pose and nodded. The baron looked undecided, then shrugged. "I'll tell him, but I can't predict what he'll decide. You may buy yourself some time, but ultimately he owns you both, so your man will do as he's told or pay the price. Endrovar will be pleased to own a cyber tech, though. Of course, your man will have to prove his worth."

  "He will. But if Endrovar lays a hand on me, he will die rather than serve him."

  Tarl's brows rose as he opened his mouth and raised a finger, then thought better of it and subsided. Ashmond smiled and gestured to the room.

  "Take your ease, My Lady. There's a bathroom through there, and the wardrobes are full of gowns. Endrovar will expect you to look your best for dinner, which is in two hours. We've left the station and are headi
ng for Hades Eleven, where he has fights lined up tomorrow."

  She inclined her head. "Thank you, Baron."

  Ashmond left, and Tassin turned to Tarl, her expression contrite. "I'm sorry, Tarl, I didn't know what else to do."

  "It's okay, you did the right thing. You actually did great. You pulled our butts out of the fire, I think. At least here we have a chance of being well treated. If one of those smugglers had bought us, or you, things would have gone badly."

  "Obviously I don't expect you to die rather than let me... be abused, but he might believe it."

  "If I don't keep you safe, Sabre will kill me anyway."

  "No he won't, and you know it." She sank down on a couch. "God, those cybers look just like him. I was shocked when I saw them."

  "Yeah, well, they're clones." Tarl sat on the sofa opposite. "I wonder how many he has."

  She grimaced, rubbing her face. "He is vile."

  "Yep, he's a lowlife, and no mistake. That's what happens to a man who beefs himself up for strength, then lets himself go to pot. Not a pleasant prospect."

  "Will it happen to Sabre?"

  Tarl glanced up. "God, no. He's genetically engineered to remain super fit, even if he never exercises and spends his life eating. His metabolism will just speed up to burn off the extra... Agh, well, don't worry about it, it's not going to happen to Sabre."

  "Not that I would..."

  "I know."

  "We have to find a way to get a message out."

  He nodded. "I may have a better chance than we had hoped for, if I'm allowed access to areas with hi-tech equipment. We'll have to be careful around the cybers, though. They know when we're lying, remember."