Chapter Eighteen
The sand runners’ camp proved to be a collection of tatty brown tents pitched in a dry riverbed several kilometres outside the city. A trio of hostile men clad in dark, ragged clothes stepped into the road when the sand hopper approached, forcing Sabre to stop. Once the guards had summoned their leader, whose sole distinguishing feature was a bionic eye, negotiations went swiftly. The sand runners handed over a young girl clad in a torn, filthy dress, and a box filled with packets of white powder was placed on the back of the sand hopper.
Under the watchful gaze of dozens of suntanned, hard-looking men with their weapons at the ready, Tarl went through the ritual of the transfer, using incorrect codes and passwords. Sabre had found a black plastic box that bore a resemblance to an override, and Tarl kept it half concealed in his hand, but ensured that the sand runners spotted it. Leaving Sabre in the camp gave Tassin several nasty qualms, and her heart was a lump of lead all the way back to the city.
They settled down to wait in the bare, cramped cabin. Tarl administered first aid to the dazed girl, who was silent and compliant. Trina was pretty in a half-starved way, Tassin thought, with slanted brown eyes, lank brown hair, fine features and grimy tanned skin. The ragged, pale green dress hung from her thin shoulders, paler skin and bruises visible through the rips in it. Compared to the pretty girls who sold themselves at the bars they had visited, she was plain, and Tassin wondered what Kernan saw in her. Perhaps she had a vibrant personality, she mused, although it was not in evidence, but then, she had just been through a terrible ordeal.
Sabre appeared shortly after midnight, panting from his run but otherwise unscathed, to Tassin's immense relief. They all piled back into the sand hopper and raced for the ship, even though Sabre assured them the sand runners had not seen him leave the camp. The cyber hammered on the hatch until Kernan opened it, and his guarded expression changed to joy at the sight of the girl. His mouth dropped open when Sabre carried the box of drugs on board.
"But -"
"Take off," Tassin ordered.
"How -?"
"Now," Tarl said.
Kernan turned and bellowed, "Kaylar! Get the sand hopper stowed, right now!"
The red-haired crewman appeared moments later, rumpled and sleepy. He also gaped at Sabre as he hurried past on his errand. The captain led them to the bridge, holding the girl at his side with a tender arm. Kernan summoned a second crewman to help fly the ship, and introduced him as Pryan, a tall, blue-eyed young man with limp sandy hair that continually flopped into his eyes. He had a narrow, intelligent face, and also wore a faded orange jumpsuit.
Kernan guided Trina to a seat at the side of the bridge and strapped her into it. He and Pryan settled into the contoured pilots' seats and began a complicated ritual to power up the aged space ship. Its interior proved to be just as battered and worn as the hull, with threadbare carpets and scuffed plastic flooring, some of which had been worn away to bare metal. The walls displayed decades of ingrained grime that not even modern cleaning chemicals could remove. By the time Kaylar returned from his chore, a deep growl emanated from the old ship's bowels, and vibrations ran through it.
"Everyone grab a chair and strap in," Kernan instructed as he adjusted the various knobs and dials on the broad console in front of him. Tassin and Tarl went to a row of seats at the rear of the bridge, where Sabre helped Tassin with her belt before strapping himself into the seat beside her. The growl rose to a roar, and Tassin plugged her ears as the old ship shuddered. The roaring lasted for several minutes, then died away to a steady rumble. Stars moved past the screens at the front of the bridge.
"Setting course for Toron Seven," Kernan announced, punching buttons and turning dials. "Auto pilot engaged."
"Check," Pryan intoned.
"First pulse in two minutes."
"Engines are green to go. Pulse drive online."
Kernan flipped a bank of switches. "Boosters engaged."
"Check. Green board."
"Shutting down main engine burn in three, two, one... shut down."
"Check, main engine shut down."
The rumble died away, leaving an eerie silence broken by clicking, creaking and an occasional beep. A few tense moments passed, then Kernan pushed more buttons on his console. He frowned at a flashing red light and banged it until it turned green.
"Auto pilot locked on."
"Check," Pryan said, leaning forward to peer into a dark screen. "Range to destination, seven point eight light years. Pulse intensity input max, required amount, three. Good to go."
Kernan flipped open a capped button and held his thumb over it. "First pulse... now."
A giant thud shook the ship, making Tassin jump and grab Sabre's hand. The stars in the screens smeared and began to stream past like watercolours in the rain.
"Green board," Pryan pronounced.
"Pulse drive charging." Kernan stared at a red light until it went off and a green one replaced it. "Pulse drive charged. Second pulse... now."
A second huge thud rattled the ship, and the streams of stars became brighter and thicker.
Tassin turned to Sabre and whispered, "What's going on?"
"This is a pulse drive ship. It builds up a vast electromagnetic charge, then expels it backwards, propelling the ship forward. It's only capable of travelling a light year in a day, no faster."
"Green board," Pryan stated again.
"Pulse drive charging... Charged. Third pulse... now."
The third thud vibrated a coffee cup off a counter, and it hit the steel floor with a shrill clatter, making Tassin jump again. The screens filled with blinding light, and dark shields slid across them when Kernan pushed a button.
"Green board," Pryan said, smiling. "Maximum speed achieved."
Kernan nodded. "Auto pilot locked on destination." He leant back and swivelled his chair to face Trina, who stared into space. Freeing himself from his safety belt, he rose and bent to stroke the tangled hair from her face, whispering in her ear. He led her off the bridge, and Pryan and Kaylar unstrapped and relaxed, turning to their passengers. Sabre unclipped his belt and released Tassin from hers.
Kaylar eyed him before addressing Tassin. "I'd ask you what happened, but the captain will want to hear it, so we'll wait for him."
"We don't owe you an explanation," Tarl said.
Kaylar nodded. "That's true. We're just glad to have Trina back. She's special, you know."
"She's badly traumatised," Tassin commented.
"Kernan will give her something to make her sleep."
She stood up. "We're all tired. Would you show us to our cabins please?"
Kaylar looked indecisive, then nodded and rose. "I guess you're the boss on this trip."
They followed him down a narrow passage to a tidy little cabin with a single bunk. Tarl took it, and Kaylar showed Tassin and Sabre to another single cabin.
The crewman hesitated, raising a brow at her. "Will you share with your cyber? We don't have a lot of spare cabins."
She nodded. "This will be fine for us, thank you."
As soon as the door slid shut, Sabre scanned the room and shook his head. "No spying devices."
"Good."
The cabin's grubby walls had, at some stage, benefited from a coat of paint, for they were less brown than the bulkheads in the corridors and bridge. A worn brown carpet hid a multitude of stains in its dark weave, and a spotted mirror hung above a scratched plastic side table. Most of the recessed lighting was defunct, and a portable light pole was tied to a pipe under the ceiling. Tassin sat on the hard bunk, which had a newish looking grey blanket and a soft pillow, her head heavy with fatigue. Slipping off her shoes, she stretched out, made as much room as possible and patted the sheet beside her.
Sabre smiled. "Thanks, I'll take the floor."
"I don't bite."
"That's good, but I'd like to get some sleep."
"Why can't you sleep here?"
He shook his head. "Not enough space, and
you snore."
"I do not!"
"How would you know?"
"Ladies don't snore."
"Then I guess you're not a lady." He took a pillow from the bed and settled on the floor.
Tassin frowned down at him. "What happened in the camp?"
"Not much. The leader ordered me to shoot some targets and knock out one of his men for entertainment. They had a celebratory feast, put me on display for the men to try to poke, got drunk and went to sleep."
"You weren't hurt?"
"No."
"I didn't like doing that, you know."
He smiled and closed his eyes. "I know."
"I was worried sick about you."
"You shouldn't have. I was in no danger as long as the leader thought he owned me. I'm too valuable to damage."
Tassin climbed off the bunk with her pillow and blankets and lay down beside him, leaning on his chest to gaze at him. "Still, it must have been horrible to be treated like a cyber again."
He sighed. "Unpleasant, that's all."
She hugged him, laying her head on his chest. "At least you didn't have to fight anyone."
"I did give some of them a few good smacks, for Trina."
"Good."
"Now go to sleep, I'm tired."
Kernan sat opposite Sabre at the dining table, watching him eat the rather tasteless porridge that Kaylar, who seemed to be the ship's dogsbody, had prepared. Tassin, who sat beside the cyber, added sugar to hers to give it some flavour. Tarl, at the end of the table, poured syrup on his. Kaylar and Pryan hung about next to the stove, looking curious. It amazed Tassin how old-fashioned everything was on the ageing ship, which had none of the modern food preparation equipment or recyclable utensils found on newer vessels. Instead, it had durozene pots, plates and cutlery, and a washer to clean them in.
Kernan broke into Tassin’s thoughts. "I know you don't owe us an explanation, but will you put us out of our misery and tell us how you pulled that off?"
She considered for a moment. "How much do you know about cybers?"
"A fair bit. I served with a platoon that was led by a cyber during the Emron conflict seven years ago. He gave me this." He indicated his scar.
"Why did he do that?"
"I disobeyed him."
"And that was... punishment?"
He shrugged. "More like an example of what can happen to stupid human troops when they disobey an officer."
"I didn't know cybers were put in charge of humans."
"They make excellent officers, but they're prone to expecting too much."
"What happened?"
Kernan frowned at his porridge. "We were in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy. I charged into a nest of them after he had ordered us to wait. I was being gung ho. He saved my life and killed the lot of them, then turned to me and said 'if you want to end your life, it's not hard to do, soldier'." He imitated the flat, toneless speech of a cyber to perfection, and Tassin glanced at Sabre.
"I swore at him," Kernan went on. "Big mistake. I was a bit of a hothead back then. So he filleted my face and sent me back to the medical tent."
"Why couldn't he just have ordered you to go back?"
Kernan shook his head. "I had to be injured to leave the combat zone."
"So you don't dislike cybers?"
"Hell no, I respect the hell out of them."
"Don't you think what's done to them is cruel?"
His brows rose. "Cruel? How?"
"Being enslaved by a machine."
"Well they have no minds of their own, do they?"
Tassin lowered her gaze to the grey sludge in her bowl, then looked at Tarl, who shook his head. She said, "Well, if you want to know how we fooled the sand runners, it's simple. I instructed the cyber to perform a false transfer, and we used invalid codes and passwords, then he sneaked out of the camp after dark."
Kernan's eyes narrowed, and he studied Sabre. "Really. That would have worked, except it's impossible."
"How so?"
"If it was, don't you think every unscrupulous trickster would have done it by now? Cybers won't do what you said. If the password's invalid, they'll say so." Tassin spooned her porridge, avoiding his eyes, and he nodded. "Okay, that's your story, and you're sticking to it. Do you mind if I ask your cyber a question?"
"No."
Kernan addressed Sabre. "Why did the cyber officer cut my face?"
Sabre ignored him until Tassin told him to reply, then asked, "Why didn't you ask the cyber who did it?"
"I never got the chance; he was killed."
"He chose the least important part of your anatomy."
"He could have cut my chest, or my arm."
"There are important muscles in those areas," Sabre said.
"He could have avoided them."
"Then you would not have been sufficiently injured to require medical attention."
Kernan looked thoughtful. "I guess so. Why did he save me?"
"Cybers are trained to minimise casualties amongst their human troops during battle. He considered you to be at risk."
Kernan pondered that with a frown, then nodded and ate his porridge.
Tassin asked, "How's Trina?"
"Asleep. I gave her something to knock her out for a while. She needs to rest."
"I hope she'll be all right."
"Yeah, me too."
Trina emerged from Kernan's cabin the next day, clean and dressed in a silk gown that clung to her slight curves. Her hair was pulled back in a severe bun and her eyes were haunted, but alert. Kernan hovered over her as she made her way to the breakfast table, and she moved carefully, which Tassin knew from experience meant that she had a lot of bruises. Kaylar presented her with a plate of what looked like meat and eggs, while the rest once again spooned a stickier version of the grey paste.
Kernan sat beside Trina and cut her meat for her as if she was child, gazing at her with deep adoration. Tassin marvelled that such a tough, strong man could be so obvious about his feelings, uncaring of what people thought. It touched her, and she revised her opinion of him, hoping that Sabre was taking notes.
Trina nibbled a piece of meat and raised her eyes to study Tassin, who sat opposite. Kernan introduced her, and she nodded at each of them in turn, her gaze lingering on Sabre.
"Thank you for saving me."
Tassin inclined her head. "Our pleasure."
"You're all good people."
"Thank you."
Trina regarded Sabre again. "Especially him."
Kernan coughed, looking embarrassed. "He's not a person, sweetheart, he's a cyber."
"What's that?"
"Well... he's a computer controlled clone."
Trina's eyes focussed on the brow band. "That thing on his forehead?"
"Yes, that controls him."
Her expression became puzzled. "No it doesn't."
Tassin expected Kernan to scoff at the girl’s announcement and argue with her, but, to her surprise, he cast Sabre a disbelieving look. "It doesn't?"
"No."
Kernan stared at the cyber for several moments, then turned to Tassin. "Would you like to explain?"
She shrugged, concentrating on her porridge to cover her disquiet. "She's mistaken."
"Trina's never mistaken. If she says he's not controlled by the brow band, he's not."
"How could she possibly know something like that?"
"She's special," Kaylar stated in a righteous tone.
"Special?"
Trina rose and walked around the table to Sabre, who sat beside Tassin. He ignored her, staring into space, and she stopped beside him and stroked his face. Her fingers traced the thin scar that ran along his cheekbone, then moved up to touch the brow band. Tassin was amazed when he did not protest as he should have, had he been under cyber control. Instead, he turned his head to gaze at the girl. She smiled, and her eyes filled with tears that overflowed and ran down her cheeks. Tassin glanced at Kernan, who watched them open-mouthed.
Trina sank to her knees beside Sabre's chair, her hand sliding down his chest in a graceful gesture. She closed her eyes and laid her cheek on his thigh.
"Thank you, warrior."
Kernan strode around the table, looking perturbed, but stopped when Sabre looked up at him and said, "She's an empath."
Kernan nodded, his eyes filled with confusion. "And you're not a cyber."
"I am."
"But you... you can't be."
"He is," Tassin said. "He's just not controlled by the brow band anymore."
Trina opened her eyes and raised her head to smile up at Kernan. "He's a great warrior, and his mind is pure, like flowers in spring or leaves in autumn. Peaceful. Gentle. Beautiful."
Kernan opened and closed his mouth several times, amazement and unease warring on his face as he stared at Sabre.
Tarl chuckled. "It's official, he's speechless."
"I am," Kernan agreed. "It's supposed to be impossible."
"Well it's not."
"Obviously. So you told the truth about scamming the sand runners. This is the only way it could work, but you didn't know that."
"I did," Tarl admitted. "That's why it was guaranteed to fool them."
"A fool proof ploy. But the brow band's still active."
"Only the control circuit is damaged."
"So he still has all his... scanners, infrared, tactical -"
"Everything," Tarl said, frowning. "And kindly stop speaking about him like he isn't here."
"Sorry."
Trina rose and slid her arms around Sabre's neck, kissing him on the cheek with a tender smile. Kernan stepped aside as she returned to her chair and sat down, gazing across the table at the cyber. After a moment, Kernan followed and sat beside her, and she glanced at him.
"He's a good person."
"He's..." Kernan turned to Sabre. "Cyber hosts are supposed to be -"
The Cyber Chronicles V - Overlord Page 21
