The Cyber Chronicles 06: Warrior Breed

by T C Southwell

  Tassin said, "I won't take orders from her, or insults!"

  "You'll do as I damn well say."

  She tried to wrench free, but only succeeded in pulling herself against his chest. "Let me go, damn you!"

  "Don't be an idiot."

  Tassin stamped on his foot, and Sabre grunted in surprise and pain, then ducked, pushing her out of harm's way as Diarda attacked again. Her daggers flashed past his cheek as she tried to slash Tassin's face. Tarl fielded the irate Queen and Sabre turned to deal with Diarda, grabbing her wrists. Diarda's face twisted with fury that rivalled Tassin's, and she, too, tried to wrench free, possessing the size and strength to make him stagger. She jerked up a knee, but he twisted aside, taking the blow on his hip. He released one of her wrists and slapped her, making her reel back with a cry of pain. Tarl cursed, and Sabre swung around in time to capture Tassin as she broke free and tried to dart past him. Pulling her into a firm embrace, he pinned her arms and frowned down at her flushed, furious face.

  "Stop it now, before you get hurt."

  "I can take care of myself. Let me go!"

  "You can't fight her; she's twice your size."

  "I don't care! She insulted me, and you." She grimaced. "And you're hurting my ribs."

  Sabre eased his hold. "Sorry. You're being foolish, now stop it."

  "Tell them the truth, then. Tell them I'm not your doxy!"

  "You're a non-combatant. You can't be anything else."

  "You're the commander of this ship now. You make the rules. And I'm not a non-combatant, I'm a -"

  "If you claim to be a warrior, you'll have to prove it, and that I won't allow. You'll get hurt."

  "What is she then?" Diarda asked, and Sabre glanced around to find her standing close by, nursing her cheek.

  Sabre released Tassin, keeping a hold on her arm. He turned to face Diarda. "She's not a warrior, for all that she would wish to be one. But she's not a doxy either, mine or anyone else's. Where we come from, status does not rely on combat."

  "You're one of us now. Only our laws apply."

  "Then what do your laws say about a non-combatant who is owed a great debt by a high-ranking warrior?"

  Diarda frowned, glancing at Atrel. "Such a thing could never happen."

  "But it has,” Atrel said. “Commander Trivian was pulled from his burning ship by a non-com. She became his ward. No one could touch her without his permission."

  Diarda faced Sabre again. "So you claim her as your ward?"

  "Yes. All of them."

  "You owe all three of them great debts?"

  "More or less."

  She turned her head and spat. "You must be truly inept to be so indebted to such pathetic non-coms."

  Sabre shrugged. "I don't care what you think. No one touches any of them."

  Diarda sheathed her daggers and swung away. "Accidents happen to the weak in battle."

  He frowned. "Then I'm ordering all of you to protect them. If anything happens to them, you will all be punished."

  She turned to face him again, her expression incredulous. "You're ordering warriors to protect these feeble creatures? You would sacrifice fighters for lowly, useless non-coms?"

  "Yes."

  "You are then a truly inept commander." Her eyes flitted over him. "And I see no golden torc about your neck."

  Sabre held out his hand to Atrel. "Give me that damn thing."

  The former commander pulled off the golden collar and handed it over, and Sabre placed it around his neck while Diarda watched, her lips curled with contempt.

  Sabre glared at her. "Satisfied?"

  "Disgusted."

  "Even better."

  Diarda snorted and strode out, followed by the other women. The tension eased at their departure, and Atrel turned to Sabre.

  "What are your orders?"

  Sabre looked down at his bloody arm, considering. "How much fuel do we have?"

  "Enough for seven days of combat manoeuvring. Food and water supplies for the same length of time."

  Sabre accessed the cyber's vast store of information. "This ship is a Lesser Skyhawk, model L10, seventeen years old by my estimation. Capable of corridor travel. To go where I want will require seven accelerations and decelerations, the equivalent of nine days of combat manoeuvring. Is the ship fully fuelled?"

  Atrel looked puzzled. "No, we refuelled four days ago."

  "Then I want it refuelled."

  "We're not due to refuel for another seven days. The supply ships will contact a high commander for clearance, and he'll want to know where you're going and why you're not rejoining the battle."

  "Right. Are the repairs completed?"

  "Yes, four hours ago."

  "Then rejoin the battle. I'll be on the bridge soon." Sabre scowled at Atrel when he hesitated. "Go."

  The new first lieutenant headed for the door, and the other officers filed out after him. The two warriors who had been following Atrel around remained, looking tense.

  Sabre eyed them. "What are you two waiting for?"

  "We're your aides," one said.

  "I don't need you. Go and join the fighting crew."

  The men glanced at each other, then left.

  Tassin approached him, gazing at his injured arm. "Are you all right?"

  "Fine."

  "Those wounds need to be dressed."

  "They're minor."

  Tarl came over, digging in his pack. "I'll do it."

  Sabre sighed and allowed Tarl to minister to his arm and hand. The ex-cyber tech shook his head in disgust. "These dagger wounds are deep. And you should have been wearing a protector for that power punch stunt."

  Sabre grunted, then hissed when Tarl sprayed the wounds with stinging antiseptic.

  "So we've got to fight their battle for seven days?" Tassin asked.

  "So it would seem. We won't be able to refuel a Trykon vessel anywhere."

  "How will they get back?"

  Sabre shrugged. "They'll have enough fuel for a couple of corridors, then they'll probably steal some from another ship."

  "We could do that, then we could leave now."

  "Not a good idea. We start attacking civilian shipping and we'll have their warships following us to Omega. If the Trykons steal on the way back, they'll be safe once they enter their space, although complaints will no doubt be lodged with an Overlord."

  "So we just have to hope we don't get blown up in the battle," she said.

  "Or die of starvation," Kernan muttered.

  Sabre noted his gaunt face and pallor. "The Trykons are sufficiently high tech to be able to synthesise some food for you from the sample. I'll order it."

  Chapter Nine

  On the bridge, whose curved forward screen gave a view of the distant battle, Diarda swung around as Atrel entered, strode over to him and tugged him aside, frowning. "What are we going to do about this?"

  Atrel rubbed the red swelling on his jaw and glanced at the officers who manned the various back-lighted consoles and data screens that lined the grey-panelled bulkheads. The control centre’s dim illumination and industrious crew gave it an atmosphere of subdued efficiency. "The bastard can beat any man in the clan. What do you propose I do?"

  "Use drugs!"

  "That would be treason now. He's our commander."

  "Whatever possessed you to let him try? You could have had him executed instead!"

  "You saw him,” Atrel said. “Did you think he could win?"

  "Then how did he?"

  "That's a damn good question, and one I wish I knew the answer to, but I don't. All I know is he beat me as if I was a non-com, and he wasn't even trying."

  "What are his enhancements?"

  Atrel shrugged, felt around inside his mouth and tugged out a broken steel-capped tooth. "Damn, another one gone, soon I'll -"

  "Bugger your teeth! What are his enhancements?"

  "His scanner seems sophisticated, and he has metal-plated bones and metal mesh armour under his skin."

  "Th
at must have taken a lot of doing. How is he so fast and strong?"

  Atrel shook his head, fingering his ribs. "I have no idea. What's your point?"

  "He's dangerous. He could become clan leader, and he's an outsider. Who knows what stupidity he could inflict on the clan if he gains leadership?"

  "From what he's said, it seems he wants to leave Trykon space, not take over the clan."

  Diarda raised her brows. "That's illegal. A high commander would forbid it."

  "I don't think he's going to take orders from a high commander."

  "Then we'll all be killed. They'll attack us."

  "Only if they find out." Atrel frowned. "Or if someone tells them. You'll be the one who gets us killed if you do."

  "Not if we overpower him. We'll be heroes."

  "He's our commander now, so that would be treason," Atrel repeated.

  "Not if he plans to do something illegal."

  Atrel nodded. "But we don't know what his plans are for sure. He hasn't given us an illegal order yet, and, if we imprisoned him now, he could deny that he intended to do anything wrong, then we'd all be punished."

  "But we must prepare, so when he does give the order to leave Trykon space, we can take him."

  "Even talking about this is treason. Be careful."

  "He's a damned outsider, and a dwarf to boot. How can you be loyal to him?" she demanded.

  "Because he beat me in an unfair fight. I had all the advantages - weight, height, armour and weaponry, yet he beat me in less than four minutes without even breaking a sweat. A warrior like that deserves respect and loyalty. That's the foundation of our society."

  "Then we need to find out how he got to be so good, so we can do it for ourselves. With warriors like him, we'd rule forever."

  Atrel sighed and rubbed his jaw again. "And how do you propose we find that out?"

  "Tisha. He has no spouse, and the non-com bitch isn't his doxy. He has the look of a man who's been without a woman for a very long time. I'll wager it won't take much persuading for him to accept Tisha, and then she could ask him."

  "He said he doesn't find Trykon women attractive, and I saw the way he looked at you. There was no desire in his eyes."

  She nodded. "I noticed that, but he's still male. Tisha is smaller than me."

  "And she knows you can beat her. She won't do it."

  "I won't challenge. What's the point if he won't accept me?"

  "True. It might work, so there's no harm in trying, I suppose." Atrel caught Diarda's arm as she turned away. "But you have to ask yourself why the non-com woman isn't his doxy, don't you? He may be damaged."

  "Then we'll find out, won't we?"

  "Tell her to be careful. We don't know how he'll react."

  She shot him a hard smile. "We have ways of dealing with reluctance."

  ****

  Sabre walked along the narrow corridor towards his new quarters, formerly Atrel's, which were far superior to the previous cramped cabin, and provided a reasonable level of comfort. They comprised a fairly sizeable bedroom and sitting area, with a private washroom, and Tassin was housed in an adjoining cabin.

  Sabre was weary after a day spent directing the cat and mouse tactics Trykons employed in their battles. The strategies were designed to minimise damage, but tended to also minimise the chances of victory. Although he allowed Atrel to make most of the decisions, being in a battle environment sparked the cyber's programming, and it constantly bombarded him with battle scenarios in the form of graphics and scrolling readouts. They distracted him no matter how much he tried to ignore them, since they were accompanied by flashing red warnings to which he was trained to react.

  The result was a splitting headache and crushing weariness, and he had quit the bridge to seek some sleep. The problem could have been avoided if he had followed the cyber's prompting, but that would have meant attacking when the Trykons would normally have retreated, putting the ship in danger. They had left the battle now, and repair crews were busy patching up the damage. He resented the two days that had been wasted, but it was necessary to avoid alerting the rest of the Eagle Clan to his defection, which could be disguised for a time when the ship needed supplies from the vast support vessels that were parked some distance from the battle arena.

  A shapely brunette stepped out of a doorway just ahead of him, forcing him to stop when she stretched an arm across the corridor. He frowned, his gaze raking her flimsy attire, which consisted of a diaphanous black negligee through which her nude form was clearly visible. She was barely taller than him, and her bright blue eyes wandered over him. Her full red lips pouted, then curving in a seductive smile.

  "I heard you were handsome, Commander, but I'm still pleasantly surprised."

  "What do you want?"

  "To talk. Won't you join me in my quarters for a drink?"

  "No. I'm tired, let me pass."

  She moved closer and ran her fingers down her chest, drawing his attention to it. "A man who can pulverise our former commander like you did should have a woman, don't you agree?"

  "I'll choose whom I spend my time with."

  "That's not quite how it works in Trykon society, but, of course, you don't know that. Amongst Trykons, women choose their spouses, and fight for them if necessary."

  "And if the man doesn't want to be chosen by her?"

  She tilted her head and ran her fingers down his chest. "Why wouldn't he?"

  "Perhaps he doesn't find her attractive."

  "You think I'm ugly?"

  "No, but…"

  She shoved him against the wall, twined her arms around his neck and pressed her almost naked length to him, leaning close to murmur, "I'm Tisha, and I want to be your spouse."

  "No." He shook his head, scowling at her. “Let go of me.”

  Sabre tried to push her away, but she clung to him, and he had no wish to hurt her. She also had way too many soft, intimate parts he would rather have avoided. The flashing warning light in his mind, which he had learnt to ignore when Tassin was close to him, impinged. He had no idea how to handle Tisha’s bold fondling, but he knew he did not like it, or want it. She stroked his hair, keeping one arm locked around his neck, and something cold stung his scalp, leaving a burning sensation.

  She purred, "You're an amazing warrior, so strong and quick, so handsome and unscarred. That is truly the sign of a great fighter, that no opponent has left his mark on you. I'll give you such pleasure as you've never known before."

  "Stop this."

  "That's not what you want. I know what you want, and I'm going to give it to you."

  “I don’t want anything from you. Let me go.”

  Another warning light pulsed in the back of his mind, but the situation made it hard to think or concentrate on the scrolling list of amber words, several flashing red. He glimpsed a chemical analysis with a few unknowns in it, then was distracted when Tisha clasped his face and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth. He recoiled, banging his head on the wall, and she pressed closer. A compulsion to lash out at her surprised him, for the cyber’s reaction to an unarmed female should not have been that violent. He placed his hands on her shoulders to push her away, but his willpower seemed to have evaporated, and the strange sensations she aroused were compelling.

  Stepping back, she gripped the front of his vest and yanked him across the corridor and through the door she had stepped out of. He was oddly unable to resist, and she followed, the door sliding shut behind her as she shed her negligee. The quarters were similar to his, with a seating area on one side and a bed on the other, a refreshment dispenser on the wall by the couch. Tisha stepped up to him and gave him a push that made him step back. The edge of the bed caught the back of his knees, and he sank onto it. She followed, pushed him back and straddled him, pushed up his vest to stroke his chest and licked her lips as her eyes roamed over him.

  “Magnificent.”

  Tisha lowered herself and pressed against him in a way that caused reactions he had never exper
ienced before, and was not sure he wanted to; at least, not with her. She clasped his face and kissed him again, and once more he gripped her shoulders with the intention of pushing her away, but whatever drug she had given him usurped his will, aiding her domination. The sensations and insistent warnings mingled in a horrible medley, and confusion fogged his mind as conflicting feelings raged within him.

  The temptation to let the pleasure engulf him sapped his willpower, at odds with a powerful aversion to being set upon by this strange female without regard for his wishes, which angered him. Streams of data poured through his brain as the control unit sought answers to his dilemma. She ran her lips along his cheek and nibbled his ear, her warm breath fanning his skin while her hand slid down his belly.

  There were too many conflicts to deal with, not least of which was his overwhelming loyalty to Tassin. Intense pleasure held him in a sweet prison, and the drugs robbed him of the will to resist. Above all else, he knew this was wrong on so many levels, and his discomfort was monumental. Only the cold darkness in the pit of his mind offered escape, and he let himself sink into it.

  Tisha sat up as Sabre went limp, a frown wrinkling her brow. His brow band was full of red lights, and he appeared to have passed out. She shook him and patted his cheek, puzzled and perturbed, then rose and pulled on a black silk robe, went over to the com-link by the door and dialled Diarda.

  "You'd better get down here, something's wrong with him."

  "What?"

  "Just come."

  Diarda arrived a few minutes later, and frowned at Sabre. "What happened?"

  "I don't know. Maybe he fainted."

  "What kind of warrior faints while in the throes of passion?"

  Tisha shrugged. "His kind?"

  "He was in the throes of passion, right?"

  "He was certainly getting there."

  "And then?"

  "Then this,” Tisha said. “He just passed out."

  "Why is his brow band full of red lights?"

  "How the hell should I know?"

  Diarda went to the bed and bent to peer at Sabre. "What drugs did you use?"