The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice

by T C Southwell

  "Please do."

  "The very same reason you're so angry right now. You have feelings. Psychopaths are incapable of proper emotional responses, so are sociopaths. They feel no remorse, no pity, but you do, don't you? If you hurt me, even in a fit of rage, or a reflex action, you'd be sorry, like you were one Eden Five. Although I'd say that your feelings of remorse then weren't very strong. You're chained by your feelings, unable to lash out because of them, but others, just as strong, make you want to lash out. You're conflicted."

  Sabre tilted his head, lowering his eyes to the floor, then keeled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "And this is what it's like to be human?"

  "Yeah." Estrelle's eyes stung with tears of relief. "Does it help?"

  "Not really."

  She giggled, shaking her head. "You're not psychotic. You're a normal human being, full of conflicts, but capable of coming to terms with them."

  He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It's still shitty."

  Estrelle moved closer, sensing that the danger was past. He sat up and turned to her, holding out a hand. She placed hers in it, and he studied it.

  "I want to say that you're brave, but you're not. You have all the bloody answers, and if you hadn't been sure I wouldn't hurt you, you wouldn't have come anywhere near me. You didn't risk touching me when I warned you not to, either. But Tassin... she took some huge risks, not knowing how I'd react, even though I would never have hurt her. But she didn't know that. She's brave."

  "She's in love with you."

  He nodded. "Yeah."

  "Do you feel better now?"

  "Calmer. I've stuffed all that shit into as many dark corners as I can find. This helped."

  "What, the talk, or the tantrum?"

  He smiled. "Both."

  Releasing her hand, he stood up in a smooth motion and strode out of the door, leaving her staring after him.

  At the hospital, Thestan waited with Martis, who was bent over an analyser, adjusting it. The commander raked her with an incredulous glance when she walked in.

  She spread her arms. "Still in one piece. Not even a bruise."

  Thestan shook his head. "He's dangerous, though."

  "No, not really. If you piss him off, he might give you the odd bruise, that's all. No more than any other angry man, and he’s got a lot to be angry about."

  "I need to know how to treat him."

  Martis looked around. "Don't piss him off."

  Estrelle nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Treat him like a man, with respect. Do what he says, and you'll be fine."

  "Why did he wreck the exercise room?"

  "He's really really angry right now. His mind block has failed, and he's learning what it is to have human emotions. He doesn't like it."

  Martis nodded. "Can't say I blame him. Must be nice to have a purely logical mind."

  "Nice and numb, yeah. I don't think I'd like to be that unable to feel; to go through life with nothing but programmed reactions. Then again, having all those emotions dumped into his mind in one fell swoop, with no knowledge of how to deal with them, must be horrible."

  "But you think he's coping?"

  She sat at a bench. "Not yet. That's what caused the tantrum. He wants to lash out, but there's nothing to focus his rage on right now. If he catches whoever took Tassin before this phase wears off, however, I pity them. There's something strangely endearing about him, though. He's so confused... It's sad."

  "Will he be throwing any more tantrums?" Thestan asked.

  "Probably. I think it helped when I told him the fact that he has these feelings means he's not psychotic. It's something he was afraid of. But you and your men are safe. As long as you don't provoke him, he'll take it out on inanimate objects."

  "And how long do you think this phase is going to last?"

  She shrugged, shaking her head. "Impossible to tell, but I reckon it will definitely end when he finds Tassin."

  "But he's looking for Tarl Averly. Who's Tassin?"

  Estrelle explained, and Thestan looked thoughtful, picked up an instrument and frowned at it. "Hard to imagine a cyber with those kinds of feelings."

  "Well, he has them, trust me."

  ****

  Tarl gazed out of the small screen in his cramped, utilitarian servants' room. The ugly brown planet that hung in space outside was Hades Eleven, a former penal colony that had rebelled in a bloodbath seventy years ago. The convicts had escaped and slaughtered all the staff and support personnel, sparing only the women. They had timed their escape to coincide with a visit from the regional governor, and took him hostage to gain control of the four warships that had been his escort. Once the prisoners had the ships, they had killed him too, and his soldiers. Since then, several attempts to retake the planet had failed, and it remained an outlaw haven far from other worlds.

  The residents of Hades Eleven were distinguished by their scarred skin, a legacy of the last attempt to bring the former penal colony back under control by wiping out the residents with a weaponised virus. Thousands had perished, but Hadeans had proven to be tough, and the survivors had kept control of the world. The planet was semi-hostile, owning a thin atmosphere that had been terra-formed using an oxygen-producing alga to create breathable air. Being so far from its yellow sun, the world remained cold at all times. The temperature plummeted on the night side, and anyone caught outside would freeze in a couple of hours. Massive heat exchangers kept the buildings warm, and little construction had taken place since the rebellion.

  Now, apparently, it was a meeting place for fight enthusiasts, and the massive, half empty prisons served as arenas. The visitors brought money to fuel the otherwise stagnant economy. The residents' only other form of income was the money they made from storing slaves and smuggled goods.

  Tarl glanced around as Ashmond came in, looking ridiculous in a silver-studded black latex outfit that accentuated his pot belly and skinny legs. It was supposed to make him look tough, Tarl assumed, but succeeded only in making him look like an escapee from a bad bondage vidimage. The baron nodded a greeting and came over to him.

  "Good, you're ready. We're leaving soon."

  Tarl glanced down at the badly fitting grey and black uniform he had been given for the occasion. "How's Tassin?"

  "Fine, scrubbing floors and polishing silver, don't worry."

  Tarl nodded. "What are the cybers fighting?"

  "Mostly dangerous beasts, and the occasional idiot. The days when Endrovar made his fortune pitting them against foolish men are over; everyone got wise and bought their own cybers. Then they discovered the futility of pitting the cybers against each other, it was no fun. Even arming a B-grade and pitting him against an unarmed A-grade was too predictable to bet on. So now it's the beasts."

  "Has Endrovar got the drugs and equipment yet?"

  "No, he's meeting his supplier at the games. He'll probably do some cyber trading, too, now that he's got you to examine the goods first. He's very pleased with you. He even gave me a bonus."

  Tarl snorted. "You didn't know."

  Ashmond shrugged. "He doesn't know that."

  "I want to see Tassin."

  "Ask Endrovar."

  "You could organise it."

  The baron glanced at his timepiece. "Time to go."

  "Please. I must speak to her, to see if she's okay."

  "I told you she's fine, but if you become too persistent, Endrovar will sell her, so don't push it." He swung away. "Come on."

  Tarl spent the short shuttle trip to the planet's surface in the back compartment with the cybers, away from Endrovar and his guests, who amused themselves in the luxurious forward cabin. Tarl studied the four clones with deep pity. Their resemblance to Sabre was disconcerting, and he wondered what was going through their minds. Did they know what lay ahead, and were they afraid, or did they hope to die in a fight and end their suffering? Pitting cybers against dangerous beasts, while entertaining for the sick enthusiasts, was a cruel sport that often resulted in terribl
e injuries, and he was not looking forward to fixing them.

  When the shuttle landed, he followed the cybers through the drab, functional concrete buildings to the assigned arena, a vast area in the middle of a cell block, formally used as an exercise yard. The beasts were confined in the cells on the ground floor, ready to be unleashed, while the spectators hung over the balconies and cat walks above. Spotlights illuminated a concrete floor stained brown by the blood of many battles, and the stench of the alien beasts made the already dank air foetid. One drawback to the oxygen-producing alga was the putrid stink it also produced, making it useless for any world where the residents might object, although his nose adjusted to it after a while.

  A fight was in progress, a cyber pitted against a horse-sized lizard-like creature with a spiked head and venomous claws. Tarl leant on a railing and watched it with dull eyes, turning away when the alien ripped the cyber's leg open, his stomach knotting. In spite of his injury, the cyber won, and attendants dragged the alien beast's corpse away. They hosed the blood off and the next fight began, another cyber pitted against a three-metre tall, hairy, ape-like creature. Tarl found a comfortable spot to sit and wait, not interested in watching more suffering. Of the seven bouts that took place while he was there, only once did a cyber lose, and that was an old C-grade.

  Food was served during an interval, and the wealthy spectators congregated in a massive mess hall adjacent to the arena, where they sat at steel tables and ate the three-course meal the Hadeans provided. Those with less money remained in the arena and consumed the snacks and portable portions vendors sold there. Tarl nibbled on a snack and hung around the mess hall’s door, keeping an eye on Endrovar, who spoke to a short, rat-faced man with darting black eyes. After the dinner break the fights resumed, and Endrovar sent two of his cybers in. Tarl was summoned to a back room to tend to the wounded clones afterwards. The first to fight was Warrior Four, the one with the bad heart, and Tarl grimaced when he examined the horrific wounds on the clone's arms and chest. Whatever he had fought had clearly had a lot of claws and spines, as well as venom. The cyber's weak heart was still beating at almost two hundred and fifty beats per minute, sweat poured off him, and he gasped in stertorous, wheezing breaths.

  Tarl gave him a painkiller first, something he had forced Endrovar to supply, refusing to work on the cybers otherwise. Then he had the onerous chore of pulling out the many venomous spines that were embedded in the clone's arms and hands. It took him over an hour to stitch up all the wounds, by which time Warrior Two was brought in, his brow band ablaze with red lights. His legs had been broken below the knees, and one arm, which was also dislocated. A flap of scalp hung down the side of his head, exposing the golden barrinium plating on his skull, and his palms were shredded.

  Endrovar was quite drunk by the time they returned to the ship, and Tarl did not see him again after he took the cybers to the hospital and put them on drips.

  The following day, the party returned to the planet with the two remaining cybers, and once again Tarl sat where he could not see the gory fights, then took care of the injured clones afterwards. Warrior Three, the C-grade, barely won his fight, and the extent of his injuries and blood loss caused the control unit to shut down, but Tarl gave him painkillers anyway. As he was putting the finishing touches to the bandages on the clone's torso, Endrovar came in with the rat-faced man Tarl had seen him talking to in the mess hall, and four cybers. Endrovar indicated the ratty man with a banana-fingered hand.

  "Tarl, this is Larus, my supplier. I want you to check out these cybers and give me your opinion."

  The cyber tech went over and examined the clones, shaking his head. "They're all B-grades, except this one, who's a well-disguised C-grade."

  Larus swelled with indignation. "Rubbish! They're all A-grades."

  "Nope." Tarl shook his head. "They're B-grades."

  "You don't know what you're talking about. You're a phony. The only cyber techs work for Myon Two. This is just a ploy to get my cybers cheaper."

  "I used to work for Myon Two," Tarl said. "I can prove it."

  "How?"

  "You know about the tattoos?"

  Larus snorted. "Anyone can get a tattoo."

  "These are special. They have a registration number embedded in them, which cybers can see. Order one of these cybers to kill me, and see what happens."

  Larus' eyes darted, increasing his resemblance to a trapped rat, and he licked his lips.

  Endrovar looked intrigued. "Do it, Larus. If he's not who he says he is, prove it."

  The supplier's eyes narrowed, and he turned to the nearest cyber and pointed at Tarl. "Cyber Seventeen, kill him."

  The cyber stepped towards Tarl, who turned to face him. The cyber stopped two strides away, his brow band flashing.

  "Unable to comply. This man is a Myon Two technician."

  Tarl glanced at Larus. "Proof enough for you?"

  Endrovar grinned, clearly delighted. "I didn't know about this."

  "Few people do," Tarl said. "It's a safety feature, so cybers can't be used against Cybercorp executives. All Myon Two technical personnel have the tattoos."

  "But where's the tattoo? I don't see one."

  Tarl pulled open his coverall, exposing the red tattoo on his shoulder. "The registration number gives off ultra violet light, which the control units can see even through clothes."

  "But what if someone copied your tattoo? He'd be safe from cyber attack then, right?"

  "The tattoos can't be duplicated. Only Myon Two has the technology to do them."

  "Fascinating." Endrovar turned to Larus. "So, now you'll have to sell these cybers to me at thirty per cent less than you were asking, or bring me some real A-grades."

  Larus shook his head. "I have plenty of buyers, but where will you find another supplier?"

  Endrovar scowled. "I'll find one."

  "Good, then do that. I won't miss your business. I have more demand than I can handle."

  "I'll also spread the word that you're selling B-grades as A-grades,” Endrovar said.

  "Go ahead, even those who believe you still have to buy from me, and I can sell them for as much as I want." Larus walked out, the cybers following.

  The emperor scowled at Tarl. "That didn't go as expected. Now I have to find a new supplier."

  "I could find you one if I had access to the Net, sir," Tarl offered.

  "As if I'm going to let you go online and send a distress message," Endrovar said, shaking his head. "I'm no fool."

  Tarl shrugged. "There's no one for me to send a message to, and I'm an outlaw, condemned to death by Myon Two. I wouldn't risk them finding me."

  "But you'd risk exposing yourself to look for a new supplier."

  "No risk. I'd be searching, not sending information, and I certainly wouldn't identify myself."

  Endrovar shook his head. "Not going to happen." He glanced at Warrior Three. "How's my little warrior doing?"

  "He's shut down from blood loss."

  "Agh, well, he's not going to last much longer. The next fight will be the end of him, I reckon."

  "I agree."

  The emperor smiled. "Then next time I'll bet on the beast, and make a killing."

  "I need the drugs and equipment, sir."

  "Yeah, yeah, I'll get them."

  Chapter Five

  Sabre looked up as Kole entered the hospital, his brows drawing together. Ten hours had passed since he had wrecked the exercise room, and Estrelle had persuaded him to let her tend to the cuts on his hands. He sat on a stool beside her workstation, and she used medical supplies from the first aid kit she had found in one of the hospital’s cabinets. She had sprayed his bloody knuckles with anaesthetic and then antibiotics, although the latter was unnecessary for a cyber. His destruction of the exercise room had restored some of his calm, but none of his peace, even with all the emotional crap shoved into his mind’s darkest corners. It still shouted its concern, anguish and despair from the back of his skull. Estrelle raked
Kole with a quick glance, then resumed bandaging Sabre's right hand, which had suffered the worst damage.

  The hacker flopped down in a chair, grinning. "Wow, Sabre, you sure know how to get yourself from the pot into the fire, don't you?"

  "What do you mean?"

  Kole gestured. "You're on an enforcer ship, for god's sake!"

  "In command of it."

  "Ah well, of course, until they find a way to drug you in your sleep or knock you out with gas or something. At which point, Estrelle and Martis, and maybe even I'm going to be in a world of shit."

  "They won't disobey Fairen."

  "Of course they will; they're enforcers. They just have to make sure you can't send him a message, and you'll vanish without a trace, I guarantee it. This time they'll make sure no sympathetic techs can free you. How did you do that, by the way?" he asked Estrelle.

  "On a drone ship."

  "Oh, that must have been fun."

  "Yeah, it was a barrel of laughs."

  Sabre shook his head. "They can't drug or gas me."

  "There are how many enforcers on this ship?"

  "About a hundred and fifty."

  "And four cybers."

  "I have their overrides."

  Kole snorted. "You'd better get command privileges too, just in case. Or give them to me, in case they find a way to knock you out. Cybers can be knocked out, can't they, Estrelle?"

  "Very difficult to do, but it's possible, yeah."

  "You see?"

  Sabre sighed, flexing his hand as Estrelle finished bandaging it. "All right, if it'll make you feel safer."

  "It should make you feel safer too."

  "I don't feel threatened."

  Kole eyed him. "Sure you do. You're as tense as an acrobat's high wire, old chum."

  "What did you find out on Omega Five?"

  "Not much. Just what I already told Overlord Fairen. They're a bunch of peasants, that lot. So what's the plan?"

  "I need you to hack into the local network and plant some information."

  The hacker smiled. "What sort?"