The Cyber Chronicles 08: Scorpion Lord

by T C Southwell

  The ship veered, almost throwing Sabre across the bridge. He braced himself against the far wall. The ship righted itself and swooped low across the spaceport, then ascended in a high-G climb that flattened Sabre to the wall next to the door. He glanced back through it as grunts and yelps came from the corridor. Martis and Estrelle rolled down the steeply inclined floor to land in a heap against the far wall. Striker headed for the blackness of space, the muted roar of her atmosphere engines rising to a scream. Blue light flashed past them, and then a bang shuddered the ship.

  "Engine three, damaged," Striker intoned.

  Kole swore. "Every time I have anything to do with you, it -"

  "Shut up."

  "Right, what do you care? It's not your ship."

  "If you had sent the message like I asked you to..." Sabre frowned as scrolling data deep in his brain flashed red, glancing inwards at it. Eden Five was a dran-world, it said, with powerful electromagnetic fields that prevented scanners from penetrating the stratosphere, effectively making departing ships blind. Striker would not be able to detect anything in her path just beyond the event horizon, something he had forgotten about.

  He glanced out of the screens at the swirling, multi-coloured lights that marked the electromagnetic curtain. "Kole, tell -"

  "Bloody hell!" Kole recoiled as the ship broke free of the atmosphere and two massive battle cruisers came into view directly ahead.

  "Collision alert," Striker murmured.

  "Evade! Evade!" Kole yelled.

  The ship veered as thrusters fired, changing its trajectory just enough to miss the closest battle cruiser, scraping past a filigree of antennae with a shriek of tortured metal. Striker shot between the enforcer ships, and blue light strafed her, hitting the hull with sharp, sizzling cracks.

  "Get into the nearest corridor," Sabre said.

  "Striker, set course for the closest corridor," Kole repeated for the AI, then swung to face Sabre. "We can't outrun them. They're faster, and we can't send a message in a corridor."

  He nodded. "I know, but we can't fight them either, so we really don't have any choice. The closest corridor is J345-55, and just one hour along it is Lair Nine, one of the worst smuggler planets around. If we can reach it without getting caught, the enforcers will have their hands full dealing with a bunch of irate smugglers."

  "So will we," Kole pointed out.

  "I'll take my chances."

  "With my ship!"

  "You have a better idea?"

  Kole frowned. "Yeah, chuck you out of the airlock."

  Sabre smiled. "I'd like to see you try. Now you really wish you had sent that message, huh? Don't bother," he added as Kole opened his mouth. "Those cruisers are jamming us, and they'll keep doing it for as long as they stay in range."

  "Which is all the way to Lair Nine, and then the smugglers will shoot us down."

  "They'll shoot the enforcers first."

  Martis appeared in the doorway, rubbing his head. "What's going on?"

  Kole eyed him. "We're being chased by a couple of battle cruisers."

  "Ah. So did you call Overlord Fairen?"

  "They're jamming us, too."

  "Right." Martis peered out of the screens. "So we're going into a corridor?"

  "Yeah. No choice."

  Martis turned to Sabre. "I think Estrelle has a broken wrist. Can you have a look at it?"

  The cyber nodded and followed Martis into a room down the corridor, where Estrelle sat at a dining table, nursing her left wrist. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she chewed her lip. Bangs and hisses came through the hull as laser bolts hit it, making her jump. Sabre remembered the ship well from the last time he had been aboard. Striker’s interior was plush, decorated mostly in white, grey and cream, with occasional splashes of deep crimson. Further down the corridor was the lounge, with cream seats around a glass-topped table, where Previd Malatar had tried to kill Tassin and Sabre had gained his freedom for the second time. At the far end of the lounge, a speckled white bar counter fronted a glass cabinet full of bottles of liquor.

  Sabre knelt beside Estrelle’s chair, took her hand and probed her wrist, bending it a little, his touch gentle. Tilting his head, he aimed the scanners at it, and she winced as he turned it.

  "It's cracked. Not too bad," he informed her. "I'll strap it up. How did it happen?"

  "When I hit the wall at the back."

  "The high-G climb. We had to evade those atmospheric craft." Sabre dug in his medikit and took out a roll of bandage.

  "Are we going to make it?"

  "I don't know. I guess you're wishing you hadn't freed me, about now?"

  "I wasn't expecting this, but no, not yet."

  He smiled, wrapping the bandage around her wrist. "You will."

  "It's going to get worse, isn't it?"

  "Yeah. They're still trying to capture me, but at some point they're going to give up and try to kill me. Then it'll get really bad."

  "But they're shooting at us. Aren't they trying to kill you now?"

  "No, they're trying to cripple the ship, shooting at the engines. When those guys aim to kill, we won't last long. This is just an armed explorer; it can't withstand fire from two battle cruisers." Sabre pulled the bandage tight. "We'll be safe in the corridor, if we get there. I guess we're going to find out how bad they want me back."

  "Very bad."

  "Why?"

  "You're a prototype."

  "They've taken my blood. What do they need me for?"

  She turned to Martis. "Tell him what you told me."

  The host tech coughed, looking uncomfortable when Sabre glanced up at him. "Well, um... if, as you say, you were changed on a molecular level, they won't be able to use your DNA to upgrade current, or future clones, they have to clone you. The thing is, you’re what, about thirty years old now? The DNA in your cells is degraded by the ageing process, so clones made from your blood cells won’t live very long."

  Sabre frowned, considering this while he finished strapping Estrelle's wrist and clipped the end of the bandage. "So what can they do?"

  "They need the only cells in your body that don’t replicate. The ones you were born with."

  "My brain cells?"

  Martis nodded. "Yeah."

  Sabre stood up and faced the host tech. "You people are bloody barbaric, you know that? There isn't even a word bad enough to describe you."

  Martis bowed his head. The bangs and hisses stopped, plunging the ship into silence. Sabre shoved him aside and went to the bridge, where Kole gazed out at stars that swelled and smeared, filling the screens with light. Dark shields slid over them, and he turned to look up at Sabre, his brows rising.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Those Myon Two bastards have sunk to new lows, but the good news is they won't be trying to blow up this ship any time soon."

  "Why's that?"

  Sabre glared at the light-filled screens. "Apparently I'm irreplaceable."

  "Why?"

  Martis came to stand in the doorway. "They can't recombine his DNA, so they have to clone him."

  Kole smiled at Sabre. "You’re going to be a daddy."

  “I wouldn’t call it that.”

  "So didn't they take your blood while they had you?"

  “They did, but they can’t use it.”

  “Why not?”

  "It’s too old. They need my brain cells.”

  “Ugh.” Kole pulled a face. “All of them?”

  “No,” Martis said. “Only one.”

  “Good thing, I think he’s only got one,” Kole said. “But, hey, I wouldn’t mind being replicated. Imagine, thousands of copies of me.”

  "So they can be tortured and turned into killing machines?" Sabre asked.

  "Well if you put it like that..."

  "That's the way it is." Sabre glared at the twinkling consoles. "I just won't allow them to take me alive, no matter what."

  "Well, although alive would be preferable, they can use your corpse, as long as it’s fresh
," Martis said.

  "I'll just have to make sure I'm vaporised, then."

  "That'll do it."

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jorran peered through the high-powered electron microscope, his brow furrowed. The retrovirus had failed again. The old host who was the experimental subject remained unchanged, and Jorran sat back to ponder the problem, massaging his temples. Touching the keypad beside his screen, he read the report from the production department again. It informed him that the free cyber's genes had also not combined with the original cocktail, but had degraded. He flipped through the files to the one that held all the DNA data from the free cyber, scowling at it. The DNA's alteration was subtle. The genes were the same, but the way they worked had changed, yet the changes were not being passed on with recombination. The genes rejected the combining process and remained unattached.

  Jorran sent the sample through a molecular analyser, tapping his fingers on the lab table while he waited for the results. The screen beeped, and he read the report, his frown growing deeper.

  "Damn it!"

  Jumping up, Jorran went over to a com-link and contacted the head of the enforcer department, whose craggy, saturnine face appeared on the screen, looking disgruntled.

  "Host Tech Jorran. How can I help you?"

  "Have your enforcers captured the free cyber yet?"

  "No, I'd have informed you if they had. He's on the run, but if he makes it to Lair Nine, they'll kill him."

  Jorran shook his head. "No, they won't. They must capture him, unharmed, if possible. It's imperative."

  "That won't be easy, sir, they -"

  "I don't care. I want him alive."

  "Yes, sir."

  Jorran closed the connection and straightened, then made his way to the office of the production department's head, a middle-aged, heavy-set man named Antar, who looked up with a raised brow.

  Jorran sat in the chair on the other side of Antar's desk and got right to the point. "We can't replicate the free cyber's genes. I did a molecular analysis. There's no way we can combine his genes with a normal cyber, or the original cocktail. We’ll have to clone him."

  “That’s going to be tricky.” Antar looked thoughtful. "Have you recaptured him?"

  "Not yet, but we will."

  "All this for a bit of fireproofing?"

  Jorran shook his head. "It's not just fireproofing. There's more, I just don't know what it is yet. And the fireproofing is enough, anyway. He can survive in fire for six minutes, undamaged."

  "I've seen the data," Antar said. "Fine, I'll prepare a new cloning protocol."

  ****

  Tassin stared at the grey sludge on her plate, her stomach heaving, then set it aside. "I can't eat that."

  Tarl spooned his sludge, grimacing. "It's not too bad. It's just unflavoured nutrient mix."

  "It's not fit for pigs."

  "You need to keep your strength up."

  "I'm fine, but I'll be ill if I eat that," she said.

  "I don't think you're going to get anything else, so you'd better get used to it. Sooner or later you'll have to eat it."

  She shook her head. "Maybe we'll reach a world with decent food before then."

  "I think this is probably what slaves eat."

  "Then I shall starve. They will feed me decent food, or watch me die."

  "They'll toss you in the garbage chute and flush you into space."

  Tassin eyed him. "Surely I'm worth something to them?"

  "You didn't cost them anything, except a bit of shuttle fuel, so they really won't care."

  The three girls gobbled their food as if they were half starved. One of them licked her plate clean and gazed at Tassin's food with hungry eyes, then raised them to meet the Queen’s.

  "Can I have that?"

  Tassin nodded, surprised by the girl's familiar tongue. "You're from Olgara?"

  The girl nodded, took Tassin's plate and wolfed the food. Tassin raised her brows at Tarl, who grunted and said, "Those bastards were already at Omega Five stealing slaves when they heard our message. No wonder they picked it up."

  "Then there really wouldn't have ever been another ship."

  "No. That transmitter probably wasn't even strong enough to make it into space." Tarl put down his empty plate. "But getting abducted still wasn't a good idea."

  "But now there's hope that there might be a transmitter wherever we're going, and if we can just use it to contact Fairen..."

  "You never give up, do you? We'll be lucky to survive. Sending a message is no longer the priority."

  "But Fairen will save us!"

  "No,” Tarl said. “Fairen will save Sabre, not us."

  "He'll save me because Sabre loves me, and you'll be saved too."

  "If you tell him Sabre's with us, and he comes and finds that you lied, he'll be pissed off."

  "But we have to tell him that Myon Two has taken Sabre," she said.

  "Yeah, if we tell him that in the message, fine, but he won't come for us, he'll go after Sabre."

  "And Sabre will make him rescue us."

  He smiled, leaning against the wall. "Make him? No one can make an Overlord do anything."

  "Ask him; beg him, then. Sabre will persuade him to save us."

  "I doubt it. Overlords run the universe. They're busy rescuing entire civilisations, or wiping them out; ending intergalactic wars and interstellar conflicts, stopping plagues and destroying crime lords. He might drop all that to save Sabre, but not us."

  "Then Sabre will save us."

  "That's a possibility,” he agreed, “although it's ironic that we were abducted trying to save him, and he'll end up risking his neck to rescue us."

  "Fairen will help him."

  "Ah, Tassin, you're such a dreamer. Fairen likes Sabre, sure, but there's a limit to how much he'll do. Sabre will need a heavily armed ship to attack smugglers, and first he'll have to find us. That's going to be the really tricky bit."

  She looked down at her twisting hands. "He won't rest until he does, I know. Just as I didn't give up until I found him and freed him."

  "I'm sure he won't, but I'm afraid he'll get killed in the attempt. After all, unlike you, even if Fairen frees him from Myon Two, if Myon Two took him, he'll still have enforcers chasing him, probably trying to kill him."

  "What do you mean, 'if Myon Two took him'? Of course they did!"

  "It might have been Ramadaus, maybe even Manutim,” Tarl said. “We don't know it was Myon Two."

  "If it was Ramadaus, he might have killed him already." Tassin stared across the room, her expression despairing. "That can't happen. Tell me it won't."

  "I wish I could."

  "If Sabre's dead, we're doomed."

  "Possibly."

  "We must escape,” she said. “I won't be a slave all my life... and my kingdom... everything will be ruined."

  Tarl slid over to her and put an arm around her shoulders. "We must hope Sabre's alive, and gets free and saves us. We must try to send a message to Fairen, to tell him Sabre was taken. We mustn't give up hope."

  Tassin hung her head, nodding.

  ****

  Striker's melodious tones jerked Sabre from his introspection, and he looked up at the screens.

  "Proximity alert."

  Kole scanned his tactical screens and swore. "One of the enforcers is pulling alongside. They're going to try to tangle their solar wings in ours."

  "That'll overload Striker's wings and blow her generators," Sabre agreed. "They're trying to cripple her."

  "Bastards."

  "Shut down the solar wings."

  "Then they'll be able to board us."

  Sabre shook his head. "Not if I have anything to do with it. Only thirty minutes to Lair Nine."

  Kole glanced down at his tactical screens again. "Striker, shut down solar wings."

  "Solar wings, offline."

  "They're coming closer." Kole frowned at the screens.

  Sabre, who still stood at the back of the bridge, stepped close
r to lean on the back of Kole's seat and look over his shoulder. "Yeah, but they'll have to take their wings offline in order to get close enough to board us. Before that, they have to match our speed exactly, but they've probably got a cyber pilot."

  "They're enforcers; of course they've got a cyber pilot."

  "Proximity alert," Striker murmured.

  The ship jerked, starting to veer. "They've got a grappler on us," Kole muttered.

  "Let me command Striker," Sabre said.

  Kole glared up at him. "Of course, who better to outwit a cyber pilot than another cyber pilot?"

  Sabre inclined his head. "That's the idea."

  "Striker, allow input from designated individual Sabre, voice recognition activation... now."

  "Hello, Striker," Sabre said.

  "Greetings, Sabre. Voice recognition input complete, Kole."

  Kole sat back, looking unhappy, and Sabre leant closer to study the tactical screens. "Striker, activate full burn, port side manoeuvring thrusters."

  The ship tilted, its movement only noticeable on the tactical readouts, which logged the change in attitude in relation to its original one. With a slight jerk, it started to spin, the artificial gravity making it undetectable.

  "Striker, stop burn," Sabre ordered.

  "Thrusters, offline."

  "Let's see them get grapplers on us now."

  Kole nodded. "That will sure put a cramp in their style, for a while."

  "Yeah, next they'll use a stasis net, but it's bought us some time."

  "How will you counter a stasis net?"

  "I can't,” Sabre said, “but it's not strong enough to prevent all movement, so I'll still be able to prevent them from deploying a docking tube."

  "What if they use grapplers as well?"

  "They'd have to be complete morons. If they use grapplers with a stasis field in place, they'll blow all of us to cosmic particles."

  Kole shifted. "Right. Good thing they know that."

  "Of course they do. You don't, because Striker doesn't have grapplers or a stasis field generator."

  Kole looked up at him. "Could you not stand so close? I find that having a cyber breathing down my neck makes my hair stand on end."

  Sabre straightened, smiling. "Only fifteen minutes to Lair Nine."