The Cyber Chronicles 03: The Core

by T C Southwell

  Tassin cursed under her breath. Where the hell was that little brat? "What's happening to him? What's he dying of?"

  "Lack of air. He's in an airtight room."

  She groaned. Asphyxiation. "How did you get him in there?"

  "The priestess tricked him."

  "No violence."

  The priest grimaced. "We hate violence."

  "But not killing."

  "It's necessary."

  She snorted. "We're just a couple of harmless travellers. Why must we be killed?"

  The man shifted. "You would lead armies to us. Tell them what we have."

  "Rubbish! What have you got, apart from a horrible disease, and who would want that?"

  The priest looked confused. "What disease?"

  "The deformities! Maybe disease is not the right word, but whatever you call it, it's horrible."

  "It's not a disease."

  "But it is a sickness," she retorted.

  "Of a sort... I suppose."

  Tassin glared. "I, for one, wouldn't live anywhere near this place if you paid me. There are beautiful places to live, like my kingdom, Arlin. Green fields, vast forests, plenty of game, herds of cattle, sheep and horses, crops of vegetables. Everything anyone could wish for. Why would I want to live here?"

  He stared at her, wide-eyed. "Truly? But you have wars, don't you?"

  "No, we don't. Everyone has enough, why would we fight?" Tassin winced inwardly at the lie. Certainly there were no wars due to a lack of food or land, only those caused by power-hungry kings.

  "That's not what we were told. We -"

  He broke off as Dena scurried in. Tassin jumped up, banged her head on the roof and sat down again, swearing. Dena grinned, and Tassin forced a smile.

  "Did you find it?"

  Dena dug in her dress and pulled out a glittering blue crystal sonlar with a flourish. Tassin flung her arms around the startled child. "You're an angel! When we get to Arlin, I shall adopt you. You'll be a princess!"

  "Really?" Dena pulled away, grinning.

  Tassin nodded. "For saving the man I..." She gulped. Love? No, not love. Care for, admire, am indebted to. Not love. "...Need to get us across the desert," she finished lamely.

  Dena handed her the sonlar. "It's loaded, so be careful."

  "I know." Tassin held the weapon gingerly.

  Dena sat on her pile of rags. "What now?"

  "Now I have to put on this man's smelly robe and go rescue Sabre."

  Tucking the sonlar into her belt, she picked up the robe, grimacing at its pungent odour, and pulled it over her head. "Well, at least I smell like one of them," she muttered. "Dena, you watch him. If he tries to escape, shoot him. I'll leave you the laser."

  "You're coming back?" Dena sounded uncertain.

  Tassin stroked the girl's dirty, patchy hair. "Of course I am. I wouldn't leave you behind after all that you've done. Loyalty must always be rewarded. When I come back, you must be ready to leave. If you want to take anything, put it in a bundle and be ready, okay?"

  "Okay."

  Tassin turned to leave, then swung back. "How do I get to the temple?"

  Dena giggled. "Go straight out, turn right at the yellow plastic, follow the passage until you reach the street, then turn right again, and you'll see the temple."

  The Queen nodded and ducked out of the hovel. Following the child's directions, she hurried along the empty streets until she came to the squat, ugly building. It had to be nearly dawn, and the temple door was unguarded. It creaked when she pushed it open, and she tiptoed through the altar room, keeping as far from the piece of black glass as she could. She groped along the wall until she found the door, and slipped into the corridor. A quick glance around assured her that it was empty. A few torches sputtered on the smooth, pale walls, but most had gone out.

  Following the priest's directions, she crept down the corridor, the hood pulled over her head in case she met a wandering cleric suffering from an attack of insomnia. Turn left, turn right, down the steps. She faced a steel door. In the middle of it was the combination lock the priest had mentioned, a round thing with numbers on it. The door looked solid, if nothing else, embedded about eight centimetres into the concrete wall. Would the sonlar be able to destroy it? She bit her lip.

  Once she pushed the button, all hell would break loose, and then she would not have time to rectify any mistakes. Should she shoot the door, or the wall? The wall was thicker, but the door stronger. She opted for the wall, hoping Sabre would be ready to spring into action as soon as she had made a hole. Taking a few steps back, she wondered how far away she should be. Not too close, but not too far, either. Recalling Sabre's description of the sonlar's ability to destroy matter, she really did not want to be included in the mess. She decided on about three metres.

  For a while she fidgeted, wiped her sweaty palms on her hips, licked her lips and shifted her feet, brushed back her hair and scratched non-existent itches. She checked the weapon for the umpteenth time, then pushed the green button that made the little blue light flash and the panel light up. It said 'armed'. Calming herself with an effort, she allowed her determination to free Sabre to prod her cowering courage out of its dark corner.

  Pointing the sonlar in the general direction of the wall, she turned her head aside and screwed her eyes shut, wishing she had enough hands to block her ears too. Gingerly she pushed the button. It clicked. Surprised, Tassin examined the weapon. Was Dena mistaken? Perhaps it was not loaded. The sliding buttons she had played with on the other sonlar were at one end of their grooves. Which end had they been when she had destroyed the walkway? She pushed them to the other end, then repeated her preparations and pressed the button.

  The concussion lifted her off her feet and flung her down the corridor. She sprawled, skinned her elbows and banged her head on the bottom step. Her ears rang from the monstrous boom, and a cloud of dust engulfed her, making her cough. Struggling to her feet, she staggered forward, her head ringing like a bell tower with a demented priest loose in it. Her elbows stung and her head throbbed. The blast had blown out all the torches, leaving her in utter darkness, and she reeled up the steps, groping for a torch around the corner. Finding one, she wobbled back down, holding it out to see the result of her handiwork.

  A two-metre hole had been blown in the wall, surrounded by a pile of gravel, all that remained of the reinforced concrete. With a hoarse crow of delight, Tassin climbed through it to search the dust-filled room beyond.

  "Sabre!" she whispered, then wondered why she was whispering when she had just made enough noise to wake the dead. "Sabre!"

  Tassin coughed and gasped. Odd shapes loomed in the torch's light, the flickering flames making the shadows move. Weird square objects lined the walls, and a few strange things stood on the tables. Gravel and chunks of plaster had ripped through the room, splintered the shabby tables and punched holes in the odd equipment, some of which lay smashed on the floor. Where the hell was he?

  "Sabre! Answer me!"

  Do not let him be dead, she prayed. It was not just because she needed him to traverse the desert; it was more than that, but she refused to label the emotion that twisted her heart. Holding the torch out, she searched the floor between the square things. He had to be here somewhere, unless this was the wrong room. Had the priest lied? Had the blast killed Sabre? Fear squeezed her heart, making her breath catch. Perhaps using the sonlar had not been such a good idea.

  Why had she not considered the possibility that the blast might hurt him, too? She cursed her stupidity, but she had not expected quite so much destruction. Her eyes fell on something that gleamed golden, and she peered at it. A metal-plated skeleton with a brow band lay in the corner, another, normal skeleton under it. Her stomach knotted, and she turned away and tripped over something, sprawling with a yelp. Scrambling away from it, she held the torch closer to see what it was.

  "Sabre!"

  The cyber looked dead, his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. His chest rose and fell
in deep breaths, however, and his brow band was full of flashing red lights.

  She gripped his arm and shook him. "Sabre, wake up!"

  His head lolled to the side, and his skin was slippery with blood. She released him and wiped it off on her robe, her heart heavy with dread. Could the cyber hear her, even if Sabre could not?

  "Cyber, I order you to wake him up!"

  The brow band flashed more brilliantly, and she held her breath as she watched Sabre's peaceful face. Distant shouts came from the corridor, and the slap of running, sandaled feet. She put her hand on Sabre's shoulder and shook him again, causing his head to loll from side to side. Lights appeared beyond the hole, and surprised exclamations followed, then several white-robed priests clambered through the gap. Reaching across Sabre, she picked up the sonlar, which she had dropped when she had tripped over him. Pointing it shakily at the advancing priests, she said, "Stay back, or I'll blow you away!"

  The men halted, staring at the weapon. A commotion came from the back of the group as the hairless priestess pushed her way to the front. The woman eyed Tassin with a triumphant smirk.

  "So, little fool," she sneered, "you came to rescue your friend. How sweet! Except he's already on his way out, and you've got an appointment with a nice piece of black glass."

  Tassin aimed the sonlar at her and put down the torch to shake Sabre with her other hand. "You take one more step, and you're dead. You see that hole in the wall? This is what made it, and if it can do that to stone, imagine what it can do to you."

  The priestess snorted. "You haven't got the guts to kill anyone. I can see the fear in your eyes; I can smell it!" She signalled to the priests. "Get her!"

  Two men approached Tassin, splitting up to come at her from opposite directions. She pointed the sonlar at one and kept an eye on the other.

  "Don't come any closer, I'm warning you! I don't want to kill you, but I will if I have to."

  The priests hesitated, but came on, apparently fearing the priestess more than a dirty girl armed with a modern weapon. More fool them, Tassin thought, although the prospect of using the sonlar again made her cold inside. It was them or her. If they got to her, she and Sabre were dead. Aiming the sonlar at the man's chest, she closed her eyes and pressed the button. This time there was less concussion with the flash of blinding light and huge boom.

  Tassin opened her eyes and stared at the spot where the man had been. He was gone, but the wall beyond was covered with blood and shredded meat, and a metre-deep hole was blasted in it, revealing fresh brown soil. Everyone gaped at it, for the wall was at least seven metres from where she knelt. Recovering first, she whipped around and levelled the weapon at the second man, who backed away, raising his hands. The priestess drew herself up.

  "So, I underestimated you, but I doubt you'll kill all of us, and we will not let you pass."

  Tassin glared at her. "Don't make the same mistake twice."

  Reaching down to shake Sabre again, she was startled when her hand was gripped, and glanced at him. He gazed at her with a faint smile, and her heart swelled with relief. A powerful urge to hug him almost overcame her, but she restrained herself, watching the bevy of priests.

  "When did you wake up?" she enquired.

  "The big bang woke me."

  The priests cast furtive looks at the priestess, who scowled. Sabre raised himself onto an elbow and eyed the sonlar.

  "I see you found another one of those pretty things to play with."

  She smiled. "It's quite handy."

  "That's what it's meant for." He sat up, looking groggy as he glanced at the holes and the wall covered with gore. "Now that's what I call overkill."

  "I had nothing else."

  "You certainly made sure of it." He held out his hand for the sonlar and she gladly gave it to him, dismayed when he tucked it into his harness.

  "What about them?" She indicated the priests.

  Sabre stood up, pulling her to her feet. "I suspect they know better than to attack me, from past experience."

  Tassin glanced at the cyber skeleton with a shudder, noticing the blood-smeared escape hatch beyond it. "They killed the last one."

  "Only by luring him in here, but I think they tried another method, which failed. Am I right, Jassine?"

  The priestess nodded. "He was too strong for us, unlike the first man, but my predecessor told him that what he sought was in here, and he fell for it. He wasn't very clever."

  "Cybers are logical, and he had to investigate every clue. He found what he was looking for."

  Jassine's eyes glittered with impotent rage as Sabre approached her, and the priests shuffled out of his way.

  "You will not escape! I'll find a way to stop you!" she said.

  "Why bother?" he asked. "We're going back across the desert, never to return."

  "You lie! You'll bring our enemies upon us!"

  He shrugged, clearly running out of patience. "Think what you will, we're leaving."

  The priestess blocked his way until the last possible moment before stepping aside. Tassin glanced back as they walked towards the steps. Jassine muttered to the priests, who nodded. They were plotting something, Tassin was certain.

  "So what's the plan?" Sabre asked.

  "Plan?"

  "To get out of the city."

  "Oh!" She shook her head. "I hadn't thought of one."

  He smiled. "Then we'd better think fast."

  As they passed through the altar room, Sabre stayed between her and the black glass, then, to her immense relief, they were outside in the fresh, chill morning air. She shucked the smelly robe and headed for Dena's hovel.

  "Where are we going?" he enquired.

  "There's a little girl who helped me. I have to find her first; she knows where the cart and donkeys are."

  Sabre followed her into the first low-roofed shack. A furtive movement made her jump, and Dena appeared at her elbow.

  "There you are!” Tassin said. “You scared me half to death!"

  The girl grinned. "You're scared of me?"

  "No, I didn't realise – oh, never mind. Take us to the cart, quick!"

  Dena eyed Sabre, looking coquettish. "You're the man from the stars."

  The cyber smiled. "That's right."

  Dena grinned at him, then led them along the street, forgoing the hovel route. She guided them to a shack where the cart was parked, unattended. Sabre brought the donkeys from the shed next door and harnessed them while Tassin tapped her foot and chewed her lip, anxiety consuming her. What were the priests planning? They were up to something, she was sure. They would not let them leave so easily.

  The sun peeped over the horizon as Sabre led the donkeys into the street. Tassin and Dena climbed aboard the cart, and Dena gave him directions for the quickest way out of the city. The donkeys' little hooves tapped on the concrete road, their ears flapping with the nodding of their heads. Sabre led them at a trot, pulling them along. Halfway along a deserted street, the priestess stepped out in front of them, her triumphant smile back.

  "I will not let you leave the city."

  Sabre increased his pace. "So you keep saying."

  Jassine was forced to get out of his way or be run down, and her expression grew wrathful. She waved her arms, and mutant men stepped out of the buildings and side streets all around them, each holding a stick tipped with a piece of black glass. Sabre halted the donkeys and drew the sonlar from his harness as he leapt onto the narrow board that served as the cart’s seat.

  "Get down, Tassin!"

  More and more men emerged, forming a ring. Tassin crawled into the back of the cart, pulling Dena, who was trying to aim one of the big lasers, with her. Sabre pointed the sonlar at Jassine.

  "Call them off, or you'll be the first to die!"

  The priestess laughed and stepped behind a wall, beyond the sonlar's affective range. Sabre cursed. There was nothing else for it. The men walked closer, the black glass held before them. Jassine must be counting on the fact that he would not
be able to kill all the men before some reached Tassin, but he had other ideas. There was more than one way to use a sonlar, and he knew all of them.

  Sabre aimed the sonlar at the closing ring of men and activated it, then spun. The weapon's blinding beam swept around him, obliterating the mutants in a roar of blasted concrete. The swathe of destruction hurled debris and dust into the air, and some of the shacks beyond disintegrated in clouds of dust. As the last man was vaporised, Sabre deactivated the sonlar and lowered it, gazing at the havoc he had wrought and the circular crater in the road. All that remained of the men was an odd red streak on the concrete. Revolted, he jumped down and hauled on the donkeys' halters, starting the terrified animals forward. They bumped through the crater, and Sabre broke into a trot, the cart rattling. As they turned the corner, he glimpsed the priestess standing in the street, watching them go.

  Sabre did not slow down until they were back in the scrubland, where he let the donkeys walk. Tassin emerged, pale and tight-lipped, and Dena stared back at the receding city, her expression unreadable. Sabre set a brisk pace, wanting to put as much distance between them and the city as possible. By the afternoon, he relaxed a little, for there seemed to be no pursuit. No one spoke, and he assumed the girls were sunk deep in sombre reflection or retrospection.

  Towards the end of the day, Sabre located a rivulet that was free from radiation. They stopped for the night, and after a frugal supper Tassin offered to share her tent with Dena, but the child opted to sleep under the cart. As Tassin headed for her tent, Sabre rose from his seat beside the fire and stepped into her path. She stopped and looked up at him, clearly startled.

  "I just wanted to say thank you," he said.

  She lowered her eyes, becoming interested in her hands. "How could I not try to save you, after all that you've done for me?"

  Sabre wondered why she appeared to be holding her breath, and tension had sprung up between them. That she had risked her life to save him caused the strange warmth to invade his chest again, and his throat was tight. People did not rescue cybers; it only worked the other way around. Of course, she needed his help to return to Arlin, but somehow that did not matter. Even if she had only saved him because of his usefulness, it meant a lot to him.