The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre

by T C Southwell

  “Shut up, Tarl.”

  Tassin studied him, raising her free hand to stroke his cheek where, he seemed to recall, the B-grade had kicked him at some point. “Your poor face.”

  “It will heal. It wasn’t that great to begin with. Maybe it’s an improvement?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “You weren’t supposed to fight again. I’m so sorry, Sabre.”

  “What? No, it wasn’t your fault. Torrian has – had spacer allies, probably Manutim.”

  “Had? He’s dead?”

  “Of course he’s dead.” Sabre glanced sideways as Tarl sprayed the side of his scalp with anaesthetic, which also made it bleed again. “I watched his head explode in a puff of red.”

  Tassin smiled, a little tentatively. “It sounds like you enjoyed that part.”

  “I did, actually. He deserved it, the shithead. In fact, it was too quick for him, after what he did. I didn’t enjoy the cyber they sent after me, though.”

  “What happened?” Tarl asked, pulling a stitch tight.

  “I think the guy Torrian was talking to thought he died of an ego attack.”

  She giggled, her eyes shimmering. “Oh, Sabre…”

  “Hey.” He cupped her cheek. “I’m okay. Don’t feel bad. I smashed his ammo, killed his cyber, wrecked his air-bike, shot three of his buddies and stole his shuttle. He’s having a bad day.”

  She giggled again. “It sounds like you had a pretty good one.”

  “I did. He’ll think twice, or maybe even three times, before helping any of Torrian’s cousins now he knows I’ll go there and kick the shit out of him.”

  She smiled. “Are you sure you’re all right? You sound… happy about it.”

  “Yeah, I’m hyped up, but kind of in a good way. I should have killed that bastard three years ago, but at least you’re safe now.”

  “I think that B-grade kicked him in the head too hard,” Tarl muttered.

  Tassin’s face fell. “Really?”

  “No, he’s kidding,” Sabre said. “Shut up, Tarl.”

  The cyber tech chuckled and shot her a reassuring smile. “He’s fine. Like he said, he’s hyped up. It would take a sledgehammer to even knock some sense into him.”

  “Tarl…”

  She cupped his cheek. “But you’re hurt.”

  “He’s not feeling much pain yet,” Tarl told her. “Wait a few hours; then he won’t be so cheerful.”

  “Did anyone see you?” she asked.

  Sabre hesitated. “Only the guy who fired the laser cannon, I think, unless others used the telescopic sights, too. Some guards saw me three nights earlier when I smashed the crystals, but I reckon they think I drowned in the moat. None of them got a good look at me, except one of the gate guards.”

  “Laser cannon?”

  “Yeah, he was taking pot shots at me from the castle.”

  “But you weren’t hit?”

  “Not by that, but the cyber shot me… four times, I think.”

  “Where?” Tarl demanded.

  “My chest.”

  “Right, get your shirt off,” Tarl said. “And now you can tell us the whole story, too.”

  Sabre sighed and stripped off his shirt, relating the entire tale while the cyber tech treated the slight burns on his chest. Tassin sat beside him and held his hand, and at the end of it heaved a deep sigh. “So many men saw you.”

  “They can’t prove anything. It could have been another cyber, since we know there was at least one other on the planet, and maybe there are more. I have an alibi, and I was here just three hours after Torrian was shot. Hide the shuttle, and they can’t prove anything. Besides, they might be so glad to get rid of Torrian they won’t even investigate it. As far as they know, his head exploded. Who’s to say why? He looked pretty pissed off at the time.”

  She giggled again. “It’s not funny.”

  “Then why are you laughing?” He grinned.

  “It sounds funny.”

  “Oh, it was funny, trust me. It just went boom.” He spread his hands in a throwing motion, delighted that he was able to make her laugh, as he had wanted to do for so long.

  Tarl finished taping a dressing to the cyber’s chest and moved away, and Tassin gave Sabre a fierce hug. He enfolded her in his arms, stroking her hair as he turned his head to whisper in her ear, “I think I need a shower.”

  She giggled and drew back to kiss him on the lips, wrinkling her nose. “You’re right.”

  Tarl turned with a grunt of annoyance as Sabre slid off the exam table. “I just put that dressing on.”

  “Then you can put another one on when I’m finished. I know you live to patch me up.” Sabre thumped Tarl on the back as he walked past, making the cyber tech groan and clutch his spine, cursing.

  “You little shit.”

  ****

  Tassin set her glass of wine down on the low table and settled back on the settee, turning to look at Sabre, how sat beside her. He appeared distracted, gazing into the fire that blazed in the hearth in front of them. They sat in the lounge of her suite, and had just finished a pleasant supper in her private dining room.

  Three months had passed since Torrian’s demise, and the populace of Pradish, after a month of turmoil, had elected a council to govern it. Torrian’s cousins had fought amongst themselves in a brutal civil war that had ended when three had been killed and the last two had been imprisoned by the newly elected council. The investigators into the King’s death had visited Castle Alrade and made enquiries, but without proof had been unable to bring charges against Sabre. He had taken the shuttle across the Badlands and returned with more laser cannons from the ruined pre-war city to re-arm her castle, a simple matter that had taken a few hours with a high-speed vehicle at his disposal.

  A week ago, in a brief ceremony at one of her court sessions, she had given him the rank of lord, an elevation that had not surprised or dismayed her nobles and advisors, since he had earned it many times over. With the title had come a modest estate with a rambling mansion and several cottages, where she planned to live with him after her abdication. There was a great deal of resistance to her suggestion that Arlin become a democracy, so she had decided to choose a council herself to govern the kingdom and remain as a figurehead.

  Ever since Sabre had made the suggestion and voiced his preference, all she wanted was a peaceful life with him, without the weight of the kingdom on her shoulders. She spent most of her time with him now, delegating affairs of state to her most trusted advisors. Tassin rode with him in the woods, swam in the lake and went exploring in the shuttle, although she feared his flying would give her grey hairs. Sabre did everything at high speed, she had learnt, and it took a great deal of courage to share in his wild pursuits. She knew, however, that she was never safer than when she was in his company, hair-raising though it sometimes was. At other times, he was a tranquil companion with a quick wit, a wry sense of humour and an endless supply of information on just about anything in the universe. She had not thought it was possible to love him more than she had done three and a half years ago, but her feelings had grown deeper.

  Tassin roused from her reverie when Sabre took her hand, and turned to find him studying her with raised brows.

  “Did you enjoy your trip to La-la-land?”

  “Quite a lot, yes,” she said.

  Sabre smiled and lowered his eyes to her hand, his fingers caressing it, sending shivers through her. It never ceased to amaze her how his touch made her tremble, especially since she was not the sort of girl who trembled easily. He dug in the pocket of his dark grey tunic and drew out something that sparkled, and her breath caught. He lifted her hand and slipped the ring onto her finger, then raised her hand and kissed the back of it. Tassin stared at the delicate diamond solitaire, her heart thudding. When she raised her eyes to his, he met her gaze with a smile. Her heart seemed on the brink of bursting, and she fought the urge to throw herself into his arms. Several seconds ticked past.

  “Are you going to ask me
something?” she finally enquired.

  “Nope.”

  She spread her hand and gazed at the ring. “You’re supposed to, you know.”

  “I know. But I already know what your answer will be.”

  “Still, it’s traditional.”

  His smile widened. “Are you going to insist?”

  “I think I must.”

  “Okay.” He lowered his eyes to her hand again. “Tassin… will you –?”

  “Yes.” She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him with all her strength, and he enfolded her in his arms and held her close.

  Several minutes later, she drew back to gaze into his eyes. “I’ve dreamt about this moment for over three years. So many times, I thought I’d lost you…” She blinked. “All I want is to spend the rest of my life with you.”

  “Hey…” He stroked the hair from her brow, trailing his fingers down the side of her face. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

  “Promise?”

  He clasped her face and leant forward to kiss her, whispering, “Promise.”

  ****

  The Cyber Chronicles saga continues in Book VIII, Scorpion Lord, Book IX, Precipice, and many more as yet unwritten.

  About the author

  T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and her family moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa. T. C. Southwell has written over forty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a living in the IT industry.

  All illustrations and cover designs by the author.

  Contact the author at demonlord07@hotmail.com

  Acknowledgements

  Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the past six years, and Vanessa Finaughty, good friend and business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.