The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre

by T C Southwell

  Leaping onto a crenulation without slowing, he sprang off it. The wall was not high enough that he would be hurt if he landed on solid ground, and he hoped he had sufficient momentum to clear the moat. The ground rushed up at him, and he glimpsed glinting water just before he plunged into it. Sabre cursed, but let himself sink to the bottom. Archers had probably been dragged from their beds by now, who would take pot shots at him as he climbed out if he did so here. His feet hit a muddy bottom, and he turned downstream and swam up to where there were less likely to be obstacles like sunken trees that might snag him. With more than ten minutes of air, he would be far downstream of the castle before he was forced to surface.

  When he swam to the surface nine minutes later, the fortress was a distant silhouette, torch-waving men running around on the ramparts. It reminded him of his escape from the Orokan city, four years ago, although that had been in a swamp. He swam to the bank, hauled himself out and made his way to his horse, which he rode to his camp in the forest. Now he just had to wait for the furore to calm down, and kill Torrian.

  Sabre waited in the forest for two days while search parties roamed up and down the river, then invaded the forest, but none came close to his camp. On the third day, the countryside was devoid of searching soldiers, and he returned to his shallow knoll to spy on the castle. Using the brow band’s magnifier, he watched soldiers and officers come and go from the fortress and patrol the walls, waiting for his quarry to appear. At dusk, he shot a small buck for dinner before settling down in his little tent for the night. The following morning, he returned to his vantage at dawn, yawning and scratching his itchy scalp. He needed a bath. The river had been fairly clean, but without soap the dip had done no good. Stretching out on the grass, he magnified the fort and scanned it for the pompous, overdressed King.

  Torrian appeared on the ramparts at midday, accompanied by two older men who were presumably his generals or advisors. The former, judging by their military air, he deduced after watching them for a few minutes. The trio wandered along the wall, pausing to pull a tarpaulin off a now-useless laser cannon.

  Sabre smiled and muttered, “Yup, they’re just useless pieces of metal now.”

  To his surprise, one of the generals drew a glittering power crystal from a pouch and pushed it into the laser cannon. So, they still had one, but it would do them little good. Ten full-power shots would expend it. Still, it was annoying. He drew a laser pistol and adjusted it to full power and fine, lay down on his stomach again and activated the cyber’s targeting scanners. Blue cross-hairs appeared in his magnified vision, and a red cross marked the spot where his laser was aimed. It was rather like one of the VR games he had played with Fairen, he mused, only more fun.

  “Time to die, shithead.”

  The trio wandered over to another laser cannon, and Sabre watched them, curious. The general pulled the tarp off it and produced a second power crystal, loading the weapon, and the cyber frowned. Just how many more power crystals did they have? Had Torrian already smuggled more across the desert? It made no difference, though, Torrian was still going to die, but Sabre decided to scout around a bit afterwards and see what he could find out. Raising the laser, he lined up the red cross with the blue cross-hairs positioned on Torrian’s head, his aim rock steady. The King faced one of the officers, side-on to Sabre, and spoke animatedly, gesturing. Sabre wondered what his last words would be as he pressed the trigger. At the same instant, Torrian’s head exploded. The officer recoiled as the red mist sprayed his face.

  Sabre smiled. “Gotcha.”

  Torrian’s corpse tottered and collapsed, and the blood-splattered officer stepped back, his face stretched in horror. Sabre wondered what was going through his mind. Perhaps he thought Torrian’s head had become so swollen it had finally exploded on its own. He chuckled. He was quite glad to kill Torrian, who had caused Tassin so much trouble and hurt Dena. Then again, he had a lot to thank the King for, too, for if not for him, Sabre would never have met the feisty Queen or got free of the control unit. Nonetheless, Torrian was a brutish rapist pig, and the world would be a better place without him. The men on the ramparts ran around in confusion, and Sabre continued to watch them. The man Torrian had been speaking to crouched over the laser cannon he had just loaded, and, to Sabre’s surprise, swung it towards his position.

  The cyber flattened himself as much as he could, and the control unit flashed a warning in his mind, that the cannon had just gone hot. That did not unduly surprise him, but he was fairly sure he was pretty much invisible in the grass, and almost a kilometre from the castle, to boot. The ground half a metre to his right hissed and turned molten in an arrow-straight furrow, the grass that edged it catching alight as a high-powered laser beam cut through it. Sabre rolled down the slope, out of sight. The man was a fairly good shot, although he had compensated for wind when it did not affect a laser. That meant he had used the telescopic sights, which was odd for a primitive, although not impossible. The control unit flashed a warning, and he glanced at the scanner info, his blood chilling. A cyber emerged from the fortress, mounted on an air-bike. It seemed that Torrian had been in contact with spacers, and Sabre suspected who it might be. Since he had lost Tassin’s support, Manutim had probably found a new ally in Torrian.

  Rising to his feet, Sabre sprinted for the cover of the trees five hundred metres to his right, another hissing furrow of glowing soil slashing the ground behind him. He was pretty sure whoever had ordered the cyber to hunt him down did not realise that he was one too, as he risked losing his expensive hi-tech equipment. He should have, though, for only a crack marksman with a sniper scope, or a cyber, could have made the shot that had killed Torrian. Safe behind a tree, he checked his lasers, both of which were fully charged, while he waited for the cyber to arrive. He watched him on the scanners and listened to the approaching whine of the air-bike, which stopped two hundred metres away, just beyond the trees. The cyber dismounted and approached on foot. The structural scanners mapped the terrain between him and his foe, who dodged from tree to tree.

  Sabre crouched and peered around the tree, a laser aimed. As the cyber darted between two trees, he snapped off a shot that missed by a hair. He had little chance of hitting the cyber; he had to wait for the unit to attack, then he would be forced to break cover. The enemy cyber stopped behind a tree next Sabre’s, and he tensed, his heart speeding up. The cyber leapt into the open, dropped into a roll and snapped off four shots that hit the tree where Sabre had been an instant before. He was already diving away, firing at the rolling cyber. His shots hit the ground the cyber had just vacated, and he dodged behind another tree. When two armed cybers fought, he thought bitterly, it generally continued without injury until their weapons ran out, then changed to unarmed combat.

  According to the scanners, his foe had a fully stocked weapons’ harness, so he had just as much ammo as Sabre. He had no intention of wasting his ammunition on such an elusive target, however; he might need it when the rest of the shitheads in the fortress joined the fight, although he would prefer to forego that pleasure. Changing tactics, he holstered his weapons and broke cover, racing towards the cyber, who snapped off four more shots that hit Sabre in the chest. His skin flamed with pain, but he reached his foe in a few strides, bowled him over and straddled him. Sabre’s unusual tactic evidently took his enemy by surprise, since this was not something a cyber would do. Sabre smashed his fist into the cyber’s face, then jerked his arms apart as his foe tried to jam his lasers into Sabre’s ears, bashing his arms away. Sabre punched the cyber in the face again, smashing his nose flat, and rolled away as his opponent tossed him off with a powerful heave.

  Sabre lunged after the cyber as he sprang to his feet, tackled him around the legs and brought him down again. The cyber still tried to aim his lasers, but Sabre smacked them away each time, whilst inflicting damage with his fists. The enemy cyber was loath to give up charged weapons, but as long as he held them he could not use his fists. The butt of a laser pistol cra
cked into the side of Sabre’s head, making stars spin in his vision. His opponent seemed to be a tad slower than he should be, indicating that he might be a B-grade. The uneven terrain made acrobatics inadvisable, but the cyber was unable to shoot Sabre again now that he was close enough to punch the weapons away.

  The fight continued in a graceful ballet of lunging, leaping, punching, blocking, rolling and diving, the close combat Sabre forced on his foe earning both fighters plenty of bruises. The enemy cyber got off occasional shots that missed, and his lasers died. Since Sabre stayed close to him, his adversary could not reload, and tossed the weapons away to free his hands. Sabre charged him, receiving a powerful punch on his head that made it ring like a gong, but he flattened his adversary and straddled him again, only this time he was armed and the other cyber was not. Sabre snatched a laser from a thigh holster as his opponent grabbed the knife in his webbing. Sabre gripped the cyber’s throat and pressed the laser to his eye. The cyber plunged the knife into Sabre’s flank, smashing his laser away.

  The fighters rolled away in opposite directions and leapt to their feet, and the conflict resumed. Sabre revised his tactics again. He had thought brute force might bring a quick victory, but it had only led to quick injuries. He wanted the fight over with, although it seemed that the men in the castle did not want to get involved in a cyber fight, and the laser cannon operator was presumably afraid of hitting the wrong cyber.

  Sabre’s heart cruised at two hundred and thirty beats per minute, sweat ran down him, and his bio-status was at eighty-seven per cent. He fell back into normal cyber fighting style, letting the control unit guide him. If he was up against a B-grade, as he suspected, he would win with these tactics, due to his split second advantage in speed. He scanned his opponent for the weaknesses a B-grade would have, and found that his left humerus was not plated and he had a gap on the left side of his skull plating.

  Sabre leapt high in a spinning kick, but his foe dived into a backflip, evading Sabre’s boot. It took another half an hour, but he landed a kick on his opponent’s left humerus and snapped the bone. Still, the fight raged on, and Sabre’s bio-status dropped to seventy-four per cent. He suspected that his enemy’s was lower, however, since the B-grade was slowing. Even so, defeating a cyber was almost impossible, even for another cyber. Usually, it ended up in a double death draw. Even if he did win, it would leave him exhausted. Coming to a decision, he sprinted for the air-bike, the B-grade hot on his heels. He leapt aboard the vehicle, which heeled on its antigravity under his weight, and thumbed the ‘start’ button. His foe jumped aboard, but Sabre kicked him off and gunned the air-bike, shooting away.

  The cyber chased after him for a few paces, then stopped, but Sabre had a good weapon at his disposal now, and swung the air-bike towards his opponent. The cyber sprinted for the trees, zigzagging. He turned an instant before Sabre smashed the bike into him and grabbed the front of it, being lifted off his feet. Sabre accelerated towards the nearest tree. The impact sent him tumbling over the handlebars, but he twisted and landed on his feet, swinging around to face his enemy. The cyber still clung to the smashed front of the bike, which drifted away, tilted under his weight. His chest was pushed in, bending his reinforced ribs, and he gaped for air. Sabre straightened, his breath coming in rapid gasps, and watched the B-grade die. Cybers always died ugly, cruel deaths, he reflected bitterly, simply because they were so hard to kill. The B-grade’s brow band sparkled with red lights, and he convulsed, trying to suck air into his flattened chest. His hands slipped off the bike and he collapsed, twitching.

  Sabre went over to him and crouched, gazing down at him. “Sorry, brother.”

  It seemed as if the B-grade’s eyes met his for an instant, and his neck muscles jerked in a nod, but it was probably just spasms. This was only the third cyber he had killed, in all the fights he had had. Soil hissed in a molten line beside him, and Sabre yanked out his knife, slashed through the B-grade’s webbing and stripped it off, then leapt up and loped into the forest. The idiot who manned the laser cannon was still compensating for the wind, though not as much. The bike was wrecked, and Sabre sprinted for his horse, scooping up the B-grade’s discarded weapons on his way. The webbing was full of power crystals and grenades, doubling his arsenal. He tightened the startled, shying beast’s girth and swung aboard, urging the gelding into a canter towards the village.

  As he expected, when he got halfway around the village, the scanners picked up a craft parked in a field beyond it. It had not been there when he had gone to the castle three days before. Sabre urged his horse into a gallop, knowing the spacers would be heading for their shuttle, too. Three horsemen came into view on a road on his left, also galloping for the shuttle. They knew if he reached it before them, he would take it. He had already cost them an air-bike and a cyber; a shuttle would hurt their pockets even more. Sabre stood up in his stirrups to absorb his mount’s bouncing stride with his knees, like a jockey, and drew a laser. He sighted along it, not needing the targeting scanners, and snapped off three shots.

  Two men crumpled and fell off their horses; the third slumped, but hung on. Sabre shot him again, and he joined his buddies on the road. The loose horses slowed to a canter, then turned and headed home. Sabre stopped and searched the bodies, coming away with more weapons and cash. He remounted his horse and cantered to the shuttle, where he stripped off the beast’s tack and released it. The craft was a V-class Etron Mini-bus, often used by tourist companies, economical and comfortable. He settled into the pilot’s seat and aimed the cyber at the console, hacking the AI in two seconds. Guiding the shuttle into the air, he mused that, thanks to the spacers, he at least had a quick form of transport home. Otherwise he would have had to endure three weeks of posterior pain on top of his bruises and exhaustion. His head pounded, his arms throbbed and his fists ached, and he took two painkillers as the shuttle shot towards Arlin.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tassin raised a hand to her mouth as Sabre stepped out of the shuttle, looking like she wanted to be sick, and Tarl’s mouth dropped open. Sabre had just landed the stolen craft in the field next to her castle, and she, Tarl and a bunch of soldiers had emerged to meet it, which did not please Sabre. She should have stayed in the castle, where she was safe, not run out to meet who knew who landing in a strange shuttle. His irritation was supplanted by surprise at her reaction to the sight of him. He even glanced behind him, but he was definitely the object of her horror. Tarl approached, looking concerned.

  “Hey, bud, you okay?”

  “Yeah, fine.”

  “You look like shit. Where the hell did you find a cyber to fight?”

  “Torrian’s castle. Long story.” He eyed Tassin.

  She lowered her hand and swallowed hard. “Sabre… what happened to you?”

  “Had a bit of a run in. Hey, you should see what the other guy looks like.”

  She clearly did not get the joke. “What does he look like?”

  “Dead. What’s wrong?”

  “You killed a cyber?” Tarl asked, frowning as he reached for the side of Sabre’s head.

  “Yeah. Just a B-grade. What the hell, Tarl?” He ducked away from the cyber tech’s hand, frowning.

  Tarl lowered it. “Bud, you need to come to the lab right now.”

  “Why?” Sabre realised that something must be wrong with his head and raised a hand to finger the spot where the B-grade had tried to knock it off with a pistol butt. His fingers brushed a flap of skin, then Tarl grabbed his wrist.

  “Leave it. Come, I’ll stitch it up. How long ago did it happen?”

  “An hour, maybe.”

  “Okay, good.” The cyber tech towed him towards the castle.

  Sabre shot a quick, embarrassed glance at Tassin, who still stared at him with wide eyes, and muttered to Tarl, “Ah, crap. Does it look that bad?”

  “Your plating’s exposed.”

  “Shit.”

  “Oh, I don’t think it will put her off, never fear. It’s not lik
e your hairy butt’s hanging out or anything.”

  “My butt’s not hairy.”

  Tarl chuckled. “Whatever.”

  “And I wasn’t … I just don’t want to scare her.”

  “Scare Tassin?” Tarl glanced at him with raised brows. “Just how hard did that B-grade hit you?”

  “Look, shut the hell up, okay? I told her I wasn’t going to have to fight, and then I come back with half my head hanging off.”

  “Not half –”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Tarl grinned. “It’s not that bad, bud, it’s just she’s never seen anything like it before, I reckon.”

  “Oh, great, so my freak factor just doubled.”

  “Nah, it’s just shock. And she knows you’re a freak, I told her so.”

  Tarl led him into the lab and pushed him down on the medical exam couch, turning to rummage in the cabinets. Tassin’s eyes flicked over him uncertainly, but the wound was on the other side of his head. He held out a hand, and she came over to take it.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s nothing, really. I can’t even feel it.”

  Tarl turned his head. “That’s because you’ve got enough adrenalin in you to put a herd of elephants into overdrive for a month.”