A beam of white-hot light sizzled past her face, accompanied by a thunderous bang, and she jerked back with a yelp. A horrible crack came from above her. Sabre spun around, dropping into a crouch at the sound of a weapon's discharge. Horror dawned in his eyes as he looked up. Tassin followed his gaze. A ruined walkway plunged towards her with a shriek of tearing metal and tortured plastic.
Sabre shouted a warning and dropped the cart's shaft, sprinting towards her. Tassin screamed and flung up her hands as the mass of twisted steel and plastic drove her to the ground. He ran to the settling heap of tangled metal, and fear chilled his heart as he plunged into the cloud of dust where the walkway had fallen. Groping within it, he grasped whatever came to hand and ripped it aside with a grating and shrieking of metal and plastic.
"Tassin!"
He tore debris from the pile, ignoring the cuts the sharp edges inflicted on his hands.
"Tassin!"
Sabre hurled heavy pieces of rusted metal behind him in a frenzy of fear and anguish. As the dust cleared, he dragged away the last of the wreckage, uncovering the steel beam that had supported the structure. Tassin lay pinned beneath it, grey with dust, blood seeping from a gash on her temple. A shard of plasglass protruded from her side, and blood pooled under her. He climbed into the debris and crouched beside her, the cyber scanning her. The results that scrolled in his mind told him that her vitals were strong, although her heart rate was elevated. The supercomputer's analysis of the scanner image indicated no broken bones or internal bleeding, and he sagged with relief.
Sabre cut her leather dress with his knife to expose the wound, then dug in his pouch for an ampoule of blood-clotting agent and injected it above the injury. Working with the calm efficiency his training engendered, even though his heart hammered with anxiety, he pulled out the plasglass shard and staunched the bleeding with a cloth from his pack. He bound it in place, lifting her to pass the bandage around her waist.
The beam lay across her thighs, and he was afraid that if he tried to pull her free it would hurt her more. Sabre tugged at the girder, which had supported the weight of the walkway and the people who had once crossed it. Although rusty, it was solid and bulky, and most of the walkway was still attached to it. Tassin had escaped serious harm because the walkway's mass and attachments had slowed its fall. The beam had missed her head, and the weaker, half-rotten floor had evidently knocked her unconscious.
Sabre took a water skin from the pack and wet a cloth to wipe her face, partly to revive her and partly to see if she had any head injuries. His ministrations exposed a bleeding lump on her forehead, and he cursed. Pulling more material from the pack, he wadded it and pushed it under her head. She moaned, her eyelids flickering, and he kept repeating her name, hoping it would penetrate the veil of unconsciousness. After several minutes, her eyes opened a slit. She grimaced, then gasped and clutched her side. Sabre pulled her hand away.
"Lie still. You're hurt, but you're going to be all right."
Her eyes filled with dazed confusion. "What?"
Of course, Sabre reflected, the blast had deafened her, and he would be surprised if her eardrums had survived the concussion. He leant closer and yelled, "Can you hear me now?"
She looked puzzled. "Not very well."
"Okay. Your eardrums are intact then, just damaged. You'll be pretty deaf for a while."
"My side hurts."
"Yes, there's a wound there, but it's not serious."
She lifted a shaking hand to her forehead. "My head."
"Yeah, you've got a bump on it. Nothing to worry about, though." He took a bottle of painkillers from his medical pouch and shook two into his palm, then lifted her head. "Swallow these; don't chew them."
Tassin pulled a face at the pills' bitter taste when he held the water skin to her lips. "My legs hurt too."
"They're stuck under a beam, but they're not broken."
"What?"
He repeated his explanation, more loudly.
"You mean I am trapped?" She looked alarmed.
"Not for long. I'm going to get you out. You'll be all right." Sabre studied the beam. He could lift it, but he needed her to pull her legs out, for to drag it away would cause more problems, there was so much attached to it. "I'm going to lift the beam, and I want you to pull your legs out when I do, okay?"
"Yes."
Sabre stepped over the girder and crouched beside it, preparing for a dead lift of what the cyber calculated to be well over a tonne. The beam was easier to grip than the concrete slab in the desert had been, but it was also heavier. Setting his hands around it, he braced himself, finding the perfect balance with which he had been bred. He pulled a little, then shifted until the weight was evenly distributed on his arms and legs. This lift would require all the strength the drugs and exercises had forced upon him from an early age.
His mind flew back to the cold-eyed instructors who had pushed the boys beyond their limit, sending the weaker ones back to the labs for more drugs. Cybers had to conform to predefined standards. They had to be able to lift a certain weight, run at a specific speed for a set distance, punch with a predetermined amount of power, and kick up to a certain height with a set force.
It was all in the brochure that customers leafed through when they contemplated buying one of the manufactured men, and it had to be met. Sabre had not been amongst those who were sent away for more drugs. He had achieved his A-grade rating, along with a few others in his batch. Those who only achieved a B or C grade were sold for less, and their flaws and limitations were detailed in the brochure.
The walkway's wreckage probably weighed more than his maximum lift, but he had to do it in order to save Tassin. He took a few deep breaths, then straightened, his shoulder and elbow joints protesting as they bore the girder's weight. For a moment nothing moved, and he pulled harder, the cords on his neck straining at his skin. The wreckage creaked and gave a metallic groan as it rose, sections of the plasglass passage that were still attached rising with it for some distance along the beam's length.
Blood pounded in his temples as his heart speeded up and his blood pressure rose, and he panted to satisfy his body's demand for oxygen. Tassin wriggled free with a whimper, and as soon as she was clear, he let the girder drop with a grinding crunch. He straightened, shaking his burning arms, his back muscles aching, and waited for the throbbing to subside. Tassin curled up in a foetal position, clasped the bandage and bit her lip as fresh blood seeped through the cloth. Stepping over the beam, he slid his arms under her and picked her up. After the beam, she was ridiculously light.
Sabre carried her to a wall and placed her beside it. He wished he could take her pain upon himself; he was far better at dealing with it. Bringing a blanket from the pack, he wadded it and pushed it under her head. Tears ran down her cheeks when she looked up at him.
"Am I going to be all right?"
"Yes." Sabre coughed and turned away to rummage in his pouch, extracting the curved needle and a length of thread. "I'll have to stitch the wound."
"Will it hurt?"
"Yes." He threaded the needle.
She watched him, her eyes filled with dread. "Must you do it now?"
"I have to sew it up, or it won't heal properly."
"I know, but... could you do it later?"
Sabre hesitated, wishing she was unconscious. She might pass out, but he was not good at inflicting pain, and the prospect of doing it to her made him queasy. "It must be stitched while it's fresh. There's a way to stop the pain, but you'll have to co-operate."
"What must I do?"
"I can use the cyber to put you to sleep, but only if you let me. If you fight it, it won't work."
"All right."
Sabre turned his attention inwards to communicate his need to the supercomputer. Its programming forbade the use of its cybernetic influence on a human, but Sabre insisted that it was for Tassin's welfare, and necessary for her continued health. Another scrolling readout of her vital signs appeared, end
ing with the computer's deduction that she was going into shock. That, plus his urging and the fact that she had given her consent, seemed to be sufficient incentive, and the cyber's deep hum vibrated the air. He faced Tassin, turning its full power on her, and her eyes glazed.
"You'll start to feel sleepy; let your eyes close," he said, forced to speak loudly because of her deafness. Her eyelids drooped. "Close your eyes... you're feeling very sleepy... let yourself go... drift away..."
Tassin's eyes closed, and she relaxed as the cyber's hum deepened, seeking the perfect tone to hypnotise her. Sabre spoke soothing words while her breathing slowed, and he kept the cyber on her, wanting her in a deep sleep. When he judged that she was in a profound trance, he stitched the wound, smeared antiseptic cream on it and rebandaged it. He packed away the medical kit, then gazed at her, pondering the potential for harm that the cyber's power offered.
This was part of the reason for its former control over him. It had no ulterior motives or human urges. In her present state, he could suggest anything, which, when she woke, she would be unable to disobey. A cyber could not force a person into this state, but once there, she was as easily subjugated as the snail. Her trust touched him, and he gave in to the strange urge to stroke her cheek. The sight of his scarred hand jerked him back to reality, and he snatched it away. He was not a man, just a cyborg. The cyber's hum faded.
"Tassin, wake up." Her eyes opened, and he smiled. "How do you feel?"
"What?"
He repeated the question a little louder.
"Better. It doesn't hurt so much anymore."
"Good, the painkillers have taken effect."
Tassin fingered the bandage. "You've sewn it up?"
"Yes."
"I didn't feel a thing."
Sabre nodded. "You were asleep."
"It felt funny. Like I was sinking into a warm black sea."
He knew the sensation all too well, only his sea had not been warm. "How do your legs feel?"
She pulled her skirt up to reveal a broad, mottled red mark across her thighs, then covered them again. "They don't hurt too much, just a kind of throbbing."
"You're lucky they're not broken."
Tassin sighed. "I guess I was pretty stupid, huh?"
Sabre held up the blue crystal weapon he had found beside her in the wreckage. "You set this off, didn't you?"
Tassin shot the weapon a guilty glance. "What is it?"
He hefted it. "It's called a sonlar. It's a cross between a sonic gun and a laser. It's designed to destroy solid matter, like buildings. It's only really effective at short range. The combination of amplified light and subsonic waves will destroy just about anything. It'll kill a person too, of course, but mostly it's used to break through fortified walls. A sonlar will make a hole big enough to drive a bus through a reinforced concrete wall."
He turned the weapon and pressed the green button, deactivating it. "Had you chosen an ordinary laser, it would have melted a hole through the walkway, and maybe a few bits would have fallen on your head. But no, Tassin has to choose a sonlar, guaranteed to bring the entire bloody structure crashing down on her."
"I didn't know that."
His frowned, and his voice hardened. "So why the bloody hell were you playing with it? You're incredible, you know that?" He shook his head. "If there's a log to cross, you'll fall off it. If there's a hole in the ground, you'll step in it. If a bunch of men raid the village, you'll get caught, and if there's a rotten bloody walkway over your head, you'll bring it down on top of you."
Tassin had the grace to look ashamed, although still a little mutinous. "It wasn't my fault."
His scowl deepened. "Damn it, Tassin, do you have a bloody death wish?"
"No!"
"Then don't play with things you don't understand!"
"I was just looking at it. It's pretty."
Sabre groaned and rolled his eyes. "Pretty! It's a bloody ugly little weapon when you know what it can do. I didn't even take any of these." He hurled the sonlar into the trees. "Another two centimetres, and you'd have had no head! Those things vaporise flesh. Do you understand now?"
She nodded, and he scowled at her. "The next time you find something pretty, like a goddamned deadly snake or some bloody poisonous flower, show it to me before you play with it, okay?"
Tassin nodded again and looked down at her dusty hands. He wrapped her in a blanket with brisk efficiency, then carried her back to the building where they had spent the night.
For a week, they waited for Tassin's wound to heal. Her bruises blossomed to blue-black, then faded to green. Sabre hunted the scrawny chickens that inhabited the abandoned buildings, not straying far from his charge. He had glimpsed several cat-like predators prowling amongst the ruins, although he did not mention this to the Queen. Tassin's wound kept her immobile for a while, but, as it healed, she grew restless, longing to return to Arlin with the weapons and reclaim her throne.
Sabre used the cyber to tame two donkeys to pull the cart, and fashioned a harness, working slowly and using that as an excuse to delay their departure. He told himself that he did this because Tassin was still weak, but deep down he knew his reluctance to return to Arlin stemmed from his fear of losing his freedom. By the end of the week, the harness was complete, and he could procrastinate no longer. Tomorrow he would set out on the return journey and, once Tassin was safely restored to her throne, wait for the spacer he knew would come for him. His owner, who would return him to a life of slavery as a cyber host, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
*****
The Cyber Chronicles saga continues in Book III, The Core, Book IV, Cyborg, Book V, Overlord, Book VI, Warrior Breed, Book VII, Sabre, 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, ranging from fantasy and science fiction to romance and adventure, as well as 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 [email protected]
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.
The Cyber Chronicles 02: Death Zone Page 26
