The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice

by T C Southwell

  "That was tough, I could tell."

  "They were all guilty, except the cook's assistant."

  "It's enough now. I don't care about the rest of them."

  Fairen sighed, clasping the cup. "The tenth man is the ringleader, I could tell. They all knew it, and they tricked me. None of them knew his real name, but I sensed it."

  "It doesn't matter."

  "I thought the last man would be the one I was looking for, but he was the only innocent."

  "But how did they know he would be the last to be judged?"

  Fairen shrugged. "They didn't, but neither did I. I would still have executed them all. They couldn't tell me his name."

  "Well, I think you scared the shit out of everyone, including me."

  "You?" Fairen chuckled. "How did I do that?"

  "That voice you used, the lasers, the things you said... terrifying."

  "It's supposed to be. The bodies of those men will be returned to their families, with a written judgement attached. Everyone will know the Scorpion Lord judged and executed them. I believe it is considered a monumental disgrace."

  Sabre nodded. "I didn't realise they were executed right in front of you."

  "Summary executions always are. Scorpio does it. There's no pain, no blood, no emotions… other than fear, of course."

  "But it was still tough on you."

  "Yes." Fairen looked down. "I'm angry too. I demanded the vidrecords of your torture, and watched them just before I judged those men."

  Sabre groaned, rubbing his face. "Why did you do that?"

  "I wanted to see for myself. It made me ill, and angry. I don't understand why you're not angry too."

  "I am. I just... I guess I'm so used to being angry about what was done to me, but unable to do anything about it, I just learnt to keep it inside."

  "That must be even worse, to be so angry, yet helpless."

  The cyber nodded. "I also lack the ability as yet to feel properly, I think. Anger I've always known, but not the freedom to vent it, so I suppressed it."

  "Would it have helped if I had let you kill them?"

  "God, no. I hate killing."

  Fairen nodded. "I sense that about you too. Strange, for a..."

  "Killing machine."

  "Warrior."

  Sabre snorted. "I never wanted to be a warrior."

  "And I never wanted to be an Overlord."

  "Yet here we are."

  Fairen nodded again. "The enforcer commanders are blameless, but I'll judge them if you want me to, otherwise I'll release them."

  "If they're blameless, there's no point in judging them. But there are other ways in which to make Myon Two pay. There are not enough Overlords to police this galaxy, as you said. What if you confiscate, or appropriate some of their ships, and use them to help you? If you'd sent battle cruisers to Thayta and Permon instead of going there yourself, they could have dealt with the Corsairs."

  The Overlord smiled, shaking his head. "Normal ships would have taken many hours, even days, to reach those planets on the Rim, and by that time the Thaytans and the Permonites would have been wiped out. And small ships cannot be fitted with translocation generators. One of my generators is bigger than all six of those enforcer ships I captured put together."

  "Station ships in trouble areas..."

  "Those two planets are a hundred and eighty-three light years apart."

  Sabre said, "You could build more Overlord ships, and give them to trustworthy men, who could use them in conflicts like those. There was no need for an Overlord, no one was judged."

  "Those were strange occurrences. Corsairs rarely attack human worlds. Usually conflicts are between humans, and an Overlord is needed."

  The cyber sipped his drink, frowning. "Then perhaps a small fleet of battle cruisers would be useful to an Overlord. You could easily carry them in this ship."

  "They would be vulnerable, as this ship is not. If one of them was destroyed, it would compromise an Overlord's power. People would know that an Overlord could be hurt, some of his ships destroyed. No, we must be swift, mysterious and invulnerable, our justice incontrovertible and our ships omnipotent. While we settle many conflicts, the fear of us prevents many more from ever starting. No one wants to draw the attention of an Overlord, and we ensure that it remains like that.

  "As my friend, you've become used to my company, and you know me for what I truly am. But for those who have never met an Overlord, we're terrifying, mysterious beings who rule with an iron fist, and for most of those who have met one, we're even more frightening."

  Sabre frowned at his drink. "Yeah, you're right."

  "I appreciate your wish to ease my burden. The best way you could help us is to find young empaths for us to train. Then perhaps we could build more ships and make our lives easier."

  "I'll keep that in mind."

  Fairen raised his head and addressed the air. "Shrain, release the enforcer commanders, and send Atrashka and Prello back to Myon Two."

  Chapter Three

  Tassin entered a massive dining room filled with powdered, overdressed people, all of whom turned to stare at her, most with disdain, some with curiosity, and several with overt hostility. An immense banquet table, covered with a burgundy cloth, held a king's ransom of gold cutlery, silver platters, crystal goblets and jewel-encrusted spice containers. Vast crystal chandeliers hung above it, casting multi-hued light in slowly moving patterns. Liveried flunkies stood in the corners like statues while others moved amongst the crowd, offering golden trays of exotic drinks.

  Tarl wore a new brown suit over a scarlet shirt. Judging by the way he scratched and fidgeted, the clothes itched and pinched him under the arms, but she suspected he had no choice but to wear them. He had received his summons just half an hour before the allotted time, presumably because Ashmond had told Endrovar about his cyber tech skills. Tassin had chosen to wear a layered silk gown of deep cobalt trimmed with gold embroidery, and a net of seed pearls covered her elegantly coiled hair. More pearls clasped her throat and dripped from her ears. A fortune in jewels had been available in her room, but she had confined herself to a tasteful minimum.

  Ashmond came forward to greet her, his eyes sweeping over her with a gleam of appreciation. "Very nice, Your Majesty, you do indeed look queenly."

  Tassin raised her chin. "Ashmond, I would look like a queen in sackcloth and ashes, simply because I am one."

  "Of course." He bowed over her hand. "Endrovar is eager to speak to you."

  The baron led her through the throng, and Tarl followed. Soft music lilted from a trio of harp, lute and flute players at the far end of the room. The banquet hall’s walls were adorned with battle banners, stuffed trophies, scarred weapons and coats of arms, with suits of armour standing like steel sentinels between them. Ornately framed portraits of dyspeptic looking individuals stared down with aristocratic disdain, their rough surfaces yellowed with age. Clearly Endrovar had striven to buy himself a history as well as culture, but the man himself lacked any, Tassin mused as the massive emperor came into view, sprawled in a cushioned chair and surrounded by giggling courtiers. He was clad in a robe that appeared to be made out of someone’s unwanted red and gold brocade curtains, belted with a gaudy jewelled golden rope.

  Ashmond stopped in front of the emperor and bowed, then stepped aside. Endrovar gestured, making the fawning fops retreat, and leered at Tassin.

  "Very nice; a definite improvement. Now, I want to speak to this cyber technician of mine."

  Tarl said, "That would be me, sir."

  Endrovar studied him. "Where did you learn to be a cyber tech?"

  "On Myon Two. I was a repair tech for fifteen years."

  "Why did you leave?"

  Tarl frowned. "Well, I realised that they feel pain, and I couldn't stomach it."

  Endrovar’s brows rose. "They don't feel anything. They're computer controlled."

  "They feel pain."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "I was wo
rking on one with a defunct brow band, and he spoke to me. He begged me to kill him, because he was horribly burnt. He died a minute later."

  The emperor turned his head. "Warrior One, come here."

  Tassin drew a sharp breath as a cyber emerged from behind a knot of people and moved closer with a swift, gliding gait to stop beside the emperor. His gentle, familiar face was impassive, and his eyes stared ahead. Endrovar drew a jewelled dagger from somewhere in his opulent clothing.

  "Roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm," he ordered.

  "Sir, cutting him won't prove anything," Tarl said. "The control unit won't allow him to show any pain. The host is completely helpless. He can't so much as focus his eyes."

  Endrovar gripped the cyber's arm and drew the dagger across his skin. Bright blood to oozed from the wound, and he gestured to the clone’s impassive face. "See? No pain."

  "As I just said, they can't show any emotions, but they do feel."

  The emperor snorted. "If they felt something, they'd show something."

  "The brow band controls them completely, but the host is fully aware. He can think, feel, hear and see, to a certain extent, but he can't speak, move or focus his eyes."

  Endrovar tucked the dagger away. "That's your theory, but impossible to prove, I'd say. Anyway, let's see how good you are. What grade is Warrior One?"

  Tarl approached the cyber, studying him. Tassin noticed that one of his cheek scars was lower than the other, there was a tiny bald patch on the side of his scalp, and, after several moments, his right eye twitched.

  "He's a high-quality grade B," Tarl said.

  "Rubbish! He's a grade A!"

  Tarl shook his head. "His plating is imperfect. Looks like a Monday or Friday job. He has scalp damage, and nerve damage in his face. I could probably find more flaws if he was wearing less clothing."

  Endrovar scowled at Tarl, then the cyber. "Warrior One, strip down."

  Tassin bit her lip as the cyber removed his uniform jacket and folded it over the back of a chair, revealing a torso covered with scars, then pulled off his shiny boots and stepped out of his trousers. Under them he wore only tight silk shorts.

  Tarl walked around him. "He has more imperfect plating on his legs, judging by the misaligned scars, and on his back. Looks like they didn't plate his left little finger, and the boots are giving him blisters, by the way. I'd need an analyser to tell you more, but he's a B-grade, no doubt about it."

  Endrovar glared at the cyber. "Get dressed, return to your station. Warrior Two, come here."

  The second cyber left his post beside the cushioned chair and stopped in front of it.

  The emperor glanced at him. "And this one?"

  Tarl inspected the second cyber, peering at his face, then walked around him. "I'll need access to touch him."

  "Warrior Two, allow this individual to touch you."

  The cyber turned his head towards Tarl, his blank eyes staring through him, and the brow band flashed. "Acknowledged."

  Tarl prodded the cyber's cheek and pried open his mouth to peer inside. He ran his fingers over the clone's face and stared into his eyes, covered them with his hand, then removed it.

  "This one's not so obvious, but is actually a lower-quality grade B. His plating's okay, but he's blind, and he has missing teeth, which sometimes happens during early combat training. He's also got a crushed cheekbone, probably from combat training, which they've plated over to try to hide. With this much damage from his training, I'd have to say that he's got slower reflexes than normal, probably a birth defect or brain damage. I take it you bought them as A-grades?"

  Endrovar nodded, looking angry. "Warrior Two, fetch the other two." The cyber left, and the emperor raked Tarl with a measuring look. "You sound like you know what you're talking about, but you could be making it up."

  "If I had analyser I could show you the flaws. This sort of thing happens a lot. There are suppliers who buy nothing but B-grades, then sell them as A-grades. Customers who don't know about the flaws, or who don't know that A-grades are supposed to be flawless, buy them as A-grades. Even some A-grades have tiny flaws, but far less than these have."

  Endrovar glanced around as Warrior Two returned, accompanied by two more cybers, and they stopped beside his chair. "Tell me about these two. Warrior Three, Warrior Four, allow this individual to touch you."

  The cybers turned their heads towards Tarl and acknowledged the order, and Tassin swallowed a lump. Tarl inspected them, snorted and shook his head over one of them, peered closely at the other and placed a hand on his brow, then felt for a pulse in his wrist.

  "Well, Warrior Three's a grade C. He has facial nerve damage, and his left hand hasn't been plated at all, or his left foot. He's blind, and he appears to have skipped the radiation treatments, judging by the colour of his skin."

  He turned to the other cyber. "This one almost had me fooled. On the outside he appears to be a grade A, until you check his temperature and heart rate. He's either got a defective heart, or it was damaged when they put the barrinium mesh around it, because his heartbeat is about a hundred, and he's running hot. A cyber's normal resting heart rate is thirty beats per minute, so his is way too high, and will eventually lead to early failure, probably in his mid-thirties, or it could fail during high exertion, and he's running hot because of it."

  Endrovar glared, his mouth a grim line. "I'm going to have words with my supplier. Warrior Three is supposed to be a grade B."

  Tarl shook his head. "Definitely a grade C."

  "Well, you could prove useful. Can you fix them?"

  "No, these are production flaws. Cybercorp would have fixed them if it was possible."

  Endrovar nodded. "This equipment you spoke about, where would I get it?"

  "You could ask your supplier, but Myon Two only sends analysers to their repair stations."

  "I'll get it. What else do you need?"

  "I'll make a list."

  "Good."

  Tarl glanced at Tassin. "But I'll only do this work for you if you agree to give Queen Tassin leave to work in a menial capacity, and not as a pleasure partner."

  Endrovar raked the Queen with a scathing glance. "Fine. She's really not my type, anyway. The cooks can use her in the kitchen. Ashmond, take her away and show her her new duties."

  The baron bowed and gestured for Tassin to precede him, guiding her from the banquet room and back to the cabin in which she had changed earlier. He paused in the doorway.

  "Take off the finery and put your old clothes back on, and I'll take you to the kitchens."

  Ashmond waited in the lounge while Tassin changed in the bedroom, then took her down into the bowels of the huge ship, where she was given a burgundy uniform and a mop and put to work cleaning the floor.

  ****

  The cyber's virtual warning light woke Sabre, and he opened his eyes and sat up. Shrain stood in the doorway, a scowling Estrelle hovering behind him.

  "What is it?" Sabre asked.

  "I told him you were sleeping," Estrelle said.

  "It's okay. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. Shrain? What's wrong?"

  "Overlord Fairen requires your presence at once, sir."

  Sabre rubbed his face and stretched, then swung his legs off the bed. When he was dressed, the commander led him through the ship to the door to Fairen's private rooms, where he stepped aside. The cyber entered, and Fairen rose from a couch, turning to him.

  "What is it, Fairen?"

  The boy looked mournful. "I received a message from your friend, Kole. It's bad news, I'm afraid. Tassin's not on Omega Five."

  "Where is she?"

  "No one knows. Kole spoke to a man there who said that she and Tarl left on a ship, but he didn't know anything else. She was supposed to have been away only for a short time, but it's been three days now."

  Sabre went over to the couch and sat down, staring ahead. "Who would take her?"

  "I don't know. You'll be able to find out more on Omega Five. I'll t
ake you there, then I must leave. I'm needed in the Presda Quadrant. I'm sorry."

  The cyber nodded, wondering what the strange emotion was that clogged his chest and made it hard to breathe. It seemed as if an immense weight had just dropped onto his shoulders, and a dull ache filled his heart.

  "I must find her."

  "And you will. But I can't help you, unless you get into trouble. You understand, don't you?"

  "Yes, of course, you have too much to do already."

  Fairen sat beside him and clasped his shoulder. "I wish I could help, but... I'll do what I can, give you whatever you need, but I can't intervene personally."

  "I know. You have to save planets..." Sabre shook his head. "I just can't believe this is happening."

  "If she was my friend, if I had given her a bracelet too, she could have sent a distress signal, and I could help. But finding her... will take too much time."

  Sabre turned to him. "It's okay. You've done more than enough already."

  "What do you need?"

  "A ship. Something with a lot of firepower."

  Fairen nodded. "I'll appropriate a battle cruiser from Myon Two, but you'll need a crew. It will mean you'll have to command enforcers."

  "I can do that."

  Fairen turned his head and addressed the air. "Summon a Myon Two commander at once."

  Sabre looked down at his hands. "We're still at Myon Two?"

  "Yes. It was quiet, so I got some sleep, then the two messages came in right after each other."

  "She must have been trying to find me." Sabre rubbed his face.

  The strange emotions were growing, making it hard to think. His initial reaction of determination and illogical optimism was fading, giving way to a growing sensation for which he had no name, but which robbed him of his motivation. The more he thought about the problem, the larger it loomed, and it was growing to gargantuan proportions as the ramifications of the immensity of space swamped him.

  "She's gone and got herself into trouble," he muttered. "If anything happens to her..."

  "You'll find her."

  "She could be anywhere."