The Cyber Chronicles - Book I: Queen of Arlin

by T C Southwell

The cyber entered the barracks, where a pot of meaty stew and a stack of plates were set out on a table. Off duty men relaxed in the long room, most clustered around the fireplace at one end. Some soldiers sat and ate at the rough-hewn tables, and hard beds furnished the rest of the room. After the cyber ate, he went in search of water, aware that he was dehydrated. Locating a horse trough in the yard, he pumped clean water to drink, then stripped off his clothes and equipment, hanging them on a nearby wall. He washed himself and his clothes, and many soldiers gathered to watch with amused grins. Judging by their smell, the soldiers never washed. Serving maids giggled and blushed as they hurried past, bolder ones stopped to stare.

  Dressed once more, the cyber re-entered the billet and assumed a resting stance beside the fire, back to the wall, since he had not been assigned a bed. He relaxed, and his host’s eyes closed. The tiny supercomputer imbedded in the black crystals never rested, however, tracking the movements of the off duty soldiers. The men eyed the cyber, whispered and pointed.

  By the time the lights were doused and the soldiers ready to bunk down for the night, the cyber had been resting, immobile, for four hours. An old soldier approached, and, when he came within a metre, the cyber’s eyes opened. The man stopped and gestured.

  “There’s an empty bed there, lad. Feel free to use it.”

  The cyber turned his head towards the indicated bed, and the veteran retreated. After a few minutes, the cyber went and lay down, arranged his body comfortably and allowed it to rest again.