A haze of smoke hung in the air, and he raced across the smooth plastic floor to the far wall, this one sheathed in a waterproof coating. His foot punched through it with a hollow boom, but, unlike the plasteel cabin walls, it did not shatter. His forearms took the brunt of the impact, and the brow band shielded his forehead. Nevertheless, the shock of the collision staggered and almost halted him. He reeled a little as he broke through it, his head ringing like a gong and his arms burning. He glanced down at them. Blood seeped from abrasions, and there were more on his knees and shins. Shaking his head, he looked around at a smoke-filled corridor.
The toxic fumes made his throat close, and he coughed. Tassin was on the far side of the wall to his left, and he turned to it, searching for a door. His groping hands found a frame and an access control, which he pushed. The door grated open, and he entered a less smoky room. Tassin lay on a hard bed in the centre of it, apparently unconscious. Two techs, or medics, he could not tell which, were sprawled on the floor beside her bed. Sabre crossed to her side in two strides and gazed down at her, his heart swelling with joy until it hurt. He placed a hand on her brow, smoothing a few strands of hair from her face with trembling fingers.
It seemed like an age since he had last seen her, on the night before he had woken in the Myon Two lab. They had shared a private candlelight dinner, which, she had assured him, was a romantic thing to do. He recalled her gentle smile and sparkling eyes, the way she had reached across the table to hold his hand. Then he had found it pleasant, but he understood it better now, and he wanted to feel her hand gripping his again. Taking hold of it, he leant over her.
"Tassin! Tassin, wake up, it's me." He patted her cheek.
Sabre checked her pulse, finding it slow, and pried open one of her eyes. Her pupil was dilated. She had been drugged. One of the white-clad men on the floor stirred, coughing.
"Help me," he rasped, raising a hand.
Sabre turned his head to glare down at him. "What did you give her?"
"Who? Oh. Just a sedative."
The cyber scooped Tassin up, cradling her against his chest, and headed for the door.
"Help us!" the man cried, grabbing Sabre’s ankle.
Sabre jerked his leg free. "No."
It was not the medic's fault, Sabre reflected as he strode back out into the corridor. The man was just following Tarvin's orders, but somehow Sabre could not forgive him. A black tide of bitterness and rage filled his heart, mingled oddly with the buoyancy of the joy that finding Tassin had brought. That he had not killed the man was testament to his restraint, and he had enough to deal with, saving Tassin. The yellow pills, he realised, were wearing off. Like every drug he ingested, he metabolised it rapidly.
Sabre trotted along the corridor, passing the huddled forms of unconscious crewmen, and consulted the schematic for the quickest route to an escape pod. Tassin's head fell back, and he held her closer, so her cheek rested on his shoulder. According to the control unit, she weighed a mere fifty-two kilograms, which was nothing to him. She did, however, occupy his arms. He glanced down at her through the haze of smoke, marvelling afresh at this feisty girl's endless courage. She had been through so much for him, risked her life many times, and it still amazed him that someone so proud and beautiful could love him.
Rounding a corner, he arrived at the row of escape pods the schematic had shown him, and cursed. They had all been launched, and the hatch panels flashed red. Five unconscious people lay in front of one, left behind to die. Evidently this was why the medics had retreated to the room with Tassin, since there was no escape here. He should probably have consulted the scanners, he reflected. Looking inwards at the cyber's information, he searched for a loaded pod bay. The closest was on the far side of the fire, but he could not take Tassin through that. The next closest was two hundred metres to his right, one deck down. One pod remained in a bank of five, and he hoped it was not malfunctioning.
The escape pod was also perilously close to the explosion site, and the scanners showed that the hull was breached in several places. There were no others close enough, however. Most had been launched, the rest were beyond too many sealed pressure doors and walls. He could not smash through walls with his burden. The cyber warned him that the level of toxicity in the smoke was rising, and, while it was still not bad enough to affect him, it was growing dangerous for Tassin. Now would be a good time to call Fairen, he mused, except the boy would put Sabre’s safety ahead of Tassin’s, and he could only translocate one person at a time. It would take him several minutes to arrive and locate Sabre, and then he would transfer the cyber first, leaving Tassin in this toxic environment, which was rapidly becoming more and more unstable. Sabre would not risk anything else going wrong. His life seemed to be cursed, and, now that he had found her, he was not going to let her out of his sight until she was safe again.
Sabre loped along the corridor to the next sealed pressure door. The access panel beside it flashed red, indicating that it was locked, and he activated the cybernetic interface. The panel’s lights turned green and the door opened. Air was sucked through it with a thump, almost sweeping him off his feet, and he stumbled into a smoke-free, low-pressure section of corridor. The tilted floor made walking difficult, but the wind stopped when the door slid shut.
The venting that was taking place here was evidently slow, and some air remained, but it was thin. His heart speeded up and his breathing quickened. Tassin panted, and he cast her a worried glance. He had to remember that she could not withstand hostile environments like he could. The floor shuddered and heaved, the walls warped and bent. The ship was breaking up, and he was approaching the damaged section. It was debateable which was worse for Tassin, the toxic smoke or the lack of oxygen. The pod was a hundred metres ahead, but he still had to find a way down to the lower deck. According to the ship's schematic, there were no stairs between him and the pod, and he was not about to go back.
Sabre went over to the wall and placed Tassin next to it, then turned his attention to the floor. The scanners informed him that it was only one-centimetre-thick duronium, and he drew a laser, pointed it at the floor and held the trigger. The beam of white-hot light seared through the carpeting, starting little fires that went out quickly in the low oxygen atmosphere. The laser sliced a deep groove in the metal beneath, causing the area around it to heat and the carpet to smoulder. Sabre completed a metre-wide circle and holstered the weapon, then stamped on the middle of it. It bent, then gave when he stamped again, falling into the corridor below with a dull clang.
Scooping Tassin up, he dropped through the hole, cushioning his landing with bent knees. She moaned and writhed, forcing him to tighten his hold. He glanced down at her, wondering if she would wake up. That might be a good thing, or not, depending on her reaction. Knowing her, however, he hoped that she remained unconscious. He trotted towards the pod bay. The breeze that blew past him was alarming, but he was committed now. The ship groaned and creaked, the floor heaved and shuddered. Gravity had become almost negligible, which made running hard as each stride sent him bounding into the air. The endless wailing of the alarms spread anxious tension with the toxic noise.
A screen cracked as he loped past it, and air whistled out of it, adding to the ship's death wail. Shadow Hawk's remaining lifespan was measured in mere hours now, and for this section, possibly minutes. As he passed another screen, he glimpsed glinting silver escape pods and debris drifting away. The pod bank came into view ahead, and his heart sank. Four soldiers stood around the remaining pod, banging on the flashing red panel beside it. The warship’s escape pods held four people, maximum. The men turned to scowl at him as loped up. They were sufficiently panicked to have a desperate glint in their eyes, which told him that they would fight for the pod. Since they could not open it, however, the point seemed moot.
Sabre placed Tassin on the floor, out of harm's way, and approached them. One stepped towards him, his eyes on the brow band.
"Cyber, open this pod, now!"
>
Sabre drew his laser and shot the man through the heart. His companions gaped at the corpse, then at Sabre. They were pale and panting in the insipid air, and hypoxia made them aggressive and stupid. Another soldier reached for his laser, and Sabre shot him in the head. The other two raised their hands and stepped back, shaking their heads.
"Hey, take it easy. There's room for all of us now. Just open the door, okay?" one asked.
Sabre was in no mood to share. His lungs laboured, and he knew he had to get Tassin into the pod within the next few minutes. Aiming at the soldier who had spoken, he pulled the trigger. The beam died, leaving a smouldering spot on the man's uniform, and Sabre reached for a fresh power crystal. The nearest man charged him, but the lack of gravity sent him flying into the air, arms flailing. Unlike Sabre, the soldiers had not been trained to deal with low gravity, and were stupid enough to attack a cyber.
Since Sabre had made it plain that he intended to kill them, however, their only choices were fight or flee, and fleeing was certain death. Then again, so was attacking a cyber. Either the soldier had forgotten he had a laser, or it was spent. As the man landed, Sabre stepped forward and punched him in the side of the head. It exploded like a rotten fruit, splattering the wall with blood and brains. The last man drew his weapon and fired. Sabre ducked and leapt sideways, rebounding off the wall, and the shot cracked into the bulkhead further down the corridor. The ship groaned, alarms wailed, and the floor heaved. Time was running out, big time.
Launching himself from the floor and wall, Sabre reached the man in a mammoth bound. His fist hit the soldier's chin with a soft crack of breaking bone, and the man went limp. Down the corridor, the bulkhead the laser shot had hit tore apart as the ship contorted. Wind howled past Sabre, and he fought against it to the pod door. The flashing panel beside it indicated a coding error.
Escape pods were not locked, but had a safety feature to prevent ignorant people from accidentally activating them. It required that four keys be pressed simultaneously on two keypads, but if less were pressed, the pod would lock and send an alarm signal to the main control station. This would usually bring a technician at a leisurely stroll to recalibrate the mechanism with a coding wand. Some panic-stricken idiot had triggered the locking mechanism, and it could not be overridden except with a coding wand. Or by a cyber.
Sabre activated the interface, and the cyber connected with the lock to unscramble the codes. The wind grew stronger as the hole down the corridor became bigger, sections of the armoured hull ripping off to fly into space. Sabre clung to the door, casting a worried glance at Tassin. If the wind got any stronger, it might suck her out of the hole. The pod panel's lights turned green, and Sabre pressed the four keys. The door rotated and swung open, and the lights within the pod flickered on. Its generators hummed as they powered up. Sabre released the door and crawled towards Tassin, the wind tugging at him.
When this section of corridor emptied, they would be left in a vacuum. Even a cyber could not survive for more than twenty minutes in space. Judging by the amount of air rushing past him, some of the pressure doors further up the corridor must have failed, and this entire section was depressurising. A dull thud came from deep within the ship, and the wind grew stronger. Walls and doors, weakened by the explosions and the ship's subsequent contortions, were collapsing. Anyone who had not found an escape pod by now was doomed. Sabre clung to the floor as the wind threatened to sweep him away, and one of the dead soldiers rolled past, heading for the hole.
The wind tugged at Tassin, and he crawled faster. It seemed as if Shadow Hawk's entire atmosphere was venting through the hole down the corridor. Tassin rolled into the wall, cracking her head against it, and then slid away. Another dead soldier rolled past. Sabre cursed, his heart racing with terror as he lunged after the Queen. His hand closed on her arm, and he hung on, his other hand scrabbling for purchase. Tassin opened her eyes and raised her head to stare at him. The wind sucked the air from her lungs, and she panted, her eyes filled with terror.
"Sabre!" It was a breathy cry, full of fear and gladness.
"I've got you," he said, his fingers finding purchase on a carpet brace.
Tassin glanced around, her eyes white ringed, and Sabre struggled to pull her closer. She seemed to weigh a tonne, but that was due to his strength draining away from lack of oxygen. Her lips were blue and her eyes glassy. His heart rate was up to two hundred and forty, but hers could not go that fast, nor could her lungs extract as much oxygen as his. It surprised him that she was conscious. She was limp, barely awake. He dragged her closer, his lungs labouring and a red haze clouding his vision.
"Listen to me," he wheezed. "I'm going to throw you into the pod."
"What... about... you?" she gasped.
"I'll be right behind you."
She nodded.
Sabre glanced back at the pod, dismayed by how far he was from it now. It had detected the low pressure atmosphere, and beeped in alarm, red lights flashing inside it. It would not close, however, as long as it was empty. He pulled Tassin to his side, shifted his grip to her waist and held her to him. Rolling onto his back, he sought for grip with his heels. He needed two arms for this. His boots slid down the carpet and encountered another brace, one of the many strips of metal that ran across the corridor. The wind was strengthening. He was not going to make it. He thrust the thought aside. Releasing his grip on the carpet brace, he clasped Tassin's waist and glanced at the pod, measuring the distance to it. According to the malfunctioning gravity, it was above him. His throw would have to be accurate, or she would bounce off and die.
Information scrolled through his mind, flashing red. The cyber calculated the amount of force it would take to hurl Tassin into the pod, and the strength he would have to use was excessive. She would be hurt. There was no other solution. No way out. He would have to hurt her to save her. The thought horrified him. He frowned down at her. He had no choice. Her eyes were half open, watching him, a slight, trusting smile curving her lips. He hated hurting people, but hurting her was something he had always dreaded.
"Tassin." He almost had to shout, the atmosphere was so thin, and was not sure she would hear him. Her eyes widened slightly, however. He was running out of time.
"This is going to hurt," he said.
She shook her head, her brow wrinkling in confusion.
Sabre pulled her closer. "I'm going to hurt you... I'm sorry."
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and she shook her head again. He was not sure what that meant, but it did not matter anymore. He would not live to regret this, and it had to be done.
Sabre commanded the control unit to release an energy burst. Warm strength rushed through him as adrenalin flooded his system. He lowered Tassin in front of him. It was a good thing she only weighed fifty-two kilograms. His eyes were fixed upon the pod's round entrance, no more than a metre wide. A small target from this distance. He must not miss. Lowering Tassin a bit further, he hurled her at the pod door. Her lower ribs broke with dull crunches, and she gave a strangled cry. His boots slipped off the floor brace, and he slid down the corridor.
Tassin sailed towards the door, her hands outstretched. She passed through it, banging her knee, and hit the padded interior at the back of the pod. The door swung shut and rotated. The pod now had an occupant, and its little computer brain had a mission. It unclamped, and thrusters fired, moving it away from the ship. He glimpsed her horrified face in the door pane, her mouth open, shouting his name. A slight smile tugged at his lips. He had about twenty minutes to live, if he was lucky. Sabre glanced down at the bracelet on his wrist, and pressed it. Fairen would never get here in time, but he deserved to know what had happened to his friend. Now that Tassin was safe, it made no difference.
The wind was dying, yet he still breathed air. A pocket of vented atmosphere surrounded the ship, but it would disperse rapidly, and the cold already bit him. The alarms had stopped, and silence clamped down. Most of the hull in the area had disintegrated, and t
he void beckoned through gaping holes. The false gravity sent him drifting spaceward. He considered trying to grab something, but it would do him no good to cling to the wreckage. He had not said goodbye to her, and the last thing he had done was hurt her. Sadness flooded him in a black tide far stronger than any emotion he had experienced before.
It made a lump form in his throat, and his eyes stung. He had not even told her how much he loved her. Not well enough. Not as he wanted to. She had been through so much for him, only for it to end like this. Life was unfair. He looked down at his scarred hands, with which he had hurt the girl he loved. Hands that could tear steel and crush stone. That had broken her bones in order to save her. That was so unfair. Stars drifted past, and the cold bit into his skin. He was just another piece of debris, not a man... a broken killing machine. The bitter voice awoke and howled its venom at him. Cyborg! This was his lot, his fate. To sacrifice himself to save a human... and yet... he had wanted to do it. He was glad she would live, and felt no resentment at his sacrifice. He would have done it even if he had been a free man. Hell, he was free, albeit not entirely a man.
It had been his choice, and he was glad of it. He had done it because he loved her, and that was the noblest reason of all. His corneas started to freeze, and he closed his eyes. The control unit had increased his metabolism to warm his skin and ward off the cold, but without oxygen it was forced to burn protein. Yet all his high-tech enhancements would only buy him a little more time to drift through space with the flotsam. How droll. The cyber would inflict upon him its final injustice and prolong his suffering. His death would be a slow and painful one... unless he switched it off.
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The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice Page 18
