The Cyber Chronicles Book II: Death Zone

by T C Southwell

  "This needs stitching."

  "Yes." The cyber tilted his head to scan his arm. "First it must be straightened."

  "Straightened?" Tassin studied at his arm, noticing that it was indeed a little bent. Bile stung her throat, and she looked away, turning the spit to distract herself from the sickening sight. Evidently when the cyber had snapped Murdor's arm, he had broken his own as well; or had it been when he had blocked the sword stroke? Both blows had been powerful enough to do serious damage. Sabre placed his arm across his knee, used his good hand to hold it down, and straightened it.

  When he released it, sweat sheened his brow under the blazing band, and his features were drawn and pale. He dug in the pouch and found the needle, which he threaded with perfect dexterity and held out to her. She swallowed hard when he bent his arm to reveal the wound. Fresh blood oozed from it, and he sat unflinching while she stitched it. As she cut the final stitch, she glanced at him and gasped with joy, for his eyes seemed to be focussed on her face.

  "Sabre!" She leant forward, but his gaze remained fixed on the spot where she had been, and her happiness ebbed away. Frowning, she tended to the birds, remembering what Sabre had told her. He had lost control again, so he could not focus his eyes, but he could hear her. She turned to him, hating his blank expression and longing for the gentle companion she had grown to treasure.

  "I hope you're going to take over again soon, Sabre. It's not much fun talking to this thing that's in charge now."

  "Order not understood."

  "Oh, shut up."

  Tassin inspected her lacerated arm again. The puncture wounds oozed clear fluid, and the area was hot, inflamed and red. Tearing a strip from a petticoat, she bandaged it.

  After they had eaten, Sabre settled against the cave wall, his head turned towards the entrance. He closed his eyes, but she knew the brow band was scanning the area with endless vigilance. He looked peaceful, devoid of expression. Tassin cradled her throbbing arm and wondered how she could help him to regain control. There had to be a way.

  Fatigue made her eyes droop, and she curled up in the blankets beside the fire, watching him. How terrible it must be, she reflected, to be trapped and helpless. The cyber must have regained control when Sabre had lost consciousness during his near drowning, but was his mind damaged? If so, it seemed unlikely that he would be able to take over again. The prospect of dealing with the cyber, now that she knew the real man, made her shudder. Sabre's loss filled her with a deep, aching sorrow, but she refused to give up on him. There had to be a way for him to win free again. The dull pain in her arm faded as she drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tassin woke shivering, and clutched the blankets around her to try to get warm. Sabre still sat against the cave wall, his eyes closed. Her parched mouth demanded water, but she had no wish to emerge into the cold air to seek it.

  "Sabre," she croaked.

  The cyber's head turned towards her, and his eyes opened. "Yes?"

  "Bring me some water."

  Sabre rose, took a water skin from the pack and handed it to her, then returned to his position by the cave mouth with a swift economy of movement. Tassin gulped the water, which made her colder, and she huddled in the blankets as her shivers increased. Her clothes stuck to her, wet with rancid sweat, and she wondered what was wrong with her. She longed for Sabre's company and warm reassurance, but the blank-faced man who guarded the entrance only had his body; his mind was trapped in some diabolical prison inside his skull. She closed her eyes as tiredness dragged her back into the soft dark arms of sleep.

  The rattle of wood woke her as Sabre fed the fire. Two plump pheasants lay beside him, ready to clean and cook, but the thought of food made her shudder, her stomach a tight knot. Instead she drank more water, then drifted into a light sleep. Strange dreams of bloody battles and burning deserts made her toss in the sweat-soaked blankets.

  A raging thirst woke Tassin the next morning. She shivered violently, her teeth chattered and her skin burnt. The world swam when she opened her eyes, so she closed them again. She groped for the water skin and drank from it before slipping back into a troubled sleep, moaning and tossing. Several times that day, she jerked awake from hideous, vivid dreams of gory battles scenes, crying out for Sabre. Each time, the cyber responded, but she ignored his soft replies.

  Sabre struggled against the darkness. His eyes were closed, so not even blurred images had reached him since the cyber's last foray for food. Something was wrong. More than a day had passed, yet Tassin had not spoken since she had asked the cyber for water, apart from calling his name in a despairing tone, which alarmed him.

  Once again, the terrible memory of drowning returned to haunt him. This time he thrust it aside instead of burrowing into the velvet blackness to escape it as he had done before. He had to find out what was wrong with Tassin. Pushing against the oppression that trapped his mind, he sensed the cyber's ever-present control. A scanner image flitted across his inner eye, showing a few woodland animals, and Tassin. He fought to surface from the black sea that held him prisoner and prevented him from reaching the light that was the real world outside.

  The spark of his psyche brightened, flaring within the dark walls that imprisoned him, and he fanned it, urgency goading him. He was trapped in a nightmare from which he could not wake, and his body ignored the instructions he gave it. Something terrible had happened to Tassin. Why had she not spoken? Why did she just sleep? He reviewed his memory of her blurred image that he had seen when the cyber had given her water, but it did not help.

  Sabre fought against the supercomputer's control harder than he ever had before. Even when he had been taken from the sensory deprivation tank and discovered that he no longer controlled his body, he had not struggled so much to be free. The cyber was damaged; its hold on him was not as strong as it should be. He just had to cross the line of control, and he would be free. The horror of the near drowning had thrust him back into the dark corner of his mind and allowed the cyber to take control of a situation he had believed to be hopeless. Now he was desperate for release.

  With a supreme effort, he broke through one of the cyber's blocks and opened his eyes. A blurred image of the cave mouth came to him, mostly black, and pain blossomed in his mind as the control unit fought back. Flashing lights sparkled on his inner eye, blinding him. He struggled for motor control, and smashed another cyber block. His neck muscles twitched in response, turning his head slightly. The cyber slammed another block into place, which he smashed again, gaining strength from the victory.

  The supercomputer tried to replace the block, but Sabre had already slipped through. He commanded his muscles, and his spine arched. He slid down the wall, still half under the cyber's control. His soft groans reached him through the muffling. This was not the same as when he had awakened in the mountain cave. Then, the damaged computer had been able to hinder his takeover, but it had not been in charge. Now he fought for supremacy with a cyber that already ruled. He mastered his neck muscles and jerked his head around, trying to smash the brow band against the wall.

  His arms responded to his brain's frantic signals and snapped up to grip the band, as he had done in the mountain cave. It gave a focus to his struggle, and his psyche continued its advance. The cave sprang into sharp focus, then blurred, and his hands pulled at the brow band. The warm coursing of control went through him, and then the cyber was no longer the master. He moved his legs, twisting and writhing.

  Pain spiked his brain as he fought free of the sucking black quagmire of cyber control. The supercomputer fought back with waves of agony, and the darkness lapped at him, trying to suck him down again. Like a soaked bird struggling to rise from the water that trapped it, he fought to throw off the last paralysing vestiges of cybernetic dominance, beating imaginary wings to lift him from the blackness. A lance of agony shot through his head as the cyber made its last stand, trying to shock his brain into submission.

  Everything sprang into sharp fo
cus. He lay gasping, pain shooting up his injured arm from his exertions. Fresh blood oozed from the wound, and more dripped from his scalp, which he had banged on the cave wall. His head pounded from the injuries he had received in the fight with Murdor, made worse by his struggle to win free of the cyber.

  Sabre sat up, sweat trickling down his chest. The fire had died to embers during his struggle, and he piled wood on it until it flared up, then crawled over to Tassin. She tossed and moaned, and he pulled the damp blanket down. She plucked at it, trying to tug it up again. Sweat sheened her flushed face, and he placed a hand on her cheek, finding her skin hot despite her violent shivers.

  Sabre stripped the blanket off her completely, wresting it from her clutching hands. He had to get her temperature down, or she would die. Picking her up, he carried her out of the cave. The moons were full, and he did not need the infrared vision the cyber no longer granted. Striding down to the stream, he waded into the icy water, and Tassin groaned when he lowered her into it. Kneeling on the slippery rocks, he supported her head and immersed the rest of her. She writhed, her eyes moving rapidly to and fro behind closed lids.

  Sabre waited for the cold to lower her temperature, wiping away the strings of sweat-damp hair that clung to her forehead. Concern gnawed at him, for she may still die if he was too late. He held her close and stroked her brow while she moaned and squirmed. The icy water swirled around him, its touch bringing back vivid images of being under it, helpless and running out of air. He quelled the urge to quit its liquid realm and concentrated on Tassin. Her breathing grew laboured, and she began to gasp. Sabre frowned and stroked her cheek, willing her to cling to life. At any moment, her breathing could stop, and she could go into convulsions as she overheated. Pain blossomed in his chest, making his breath catch.

  He gazed down at her. "Don't die, Tassin. Come on, you can do it. You can fight it, you're strong. You're a goddamned warrior queen."

  Sabre laid his cheek against her brow and rocked her in the icy stream. Her skin seemed cooler, and he tested it with his hand, finding that her temperature had dropped, although her breathing remained laboured.

  "Come on, fight! Don't give up on me now."

  Sabre waited for what seemed like hours, until Tassin's breathing returned to normal and she stopped moaning. When he tested her brow again, he found it cool and rose to his feet, her dress streaming water. Back at the cave, he placed her on the pine needles and contemplated what he had to do next with some disquiet. He could not leave her in the wet dress. Dreading her reaction if she woke in the middle of it, he began to undo the tiny buttons in the front of the tatty pink gown.

  There seemed to be hundreds of them, and he swore when they foiled his inexperienced fingers. He pulled the dress off her shoulders and eased it over her hips. No wonder noblewomen required help to dress themselves, he mused; it was like peeling a sausage. Under the gown she wore a satin slip, and he considered leaving it, but the possibility of pneumonia changed his mind.

  Sabre pulled it off, averting his eyes, and wrapped her in a blanket. She shivered again, but her brow remained cool. Searching for the source of the infection, he cut off the dirty bandage on her arm and frowned at the ugly, inflamed wounds under it. No wonder she had a fever. It looked like she had been savaged by a wild animal. Casting his mind back to the battle, he vaguely remembered her cries of pain through the blows and illusions that had muddled his perception. The wolf.

  Sabre cursed, glad now that the cyber had killed the fleeing animal. Her arm's slenderness dismayed him, but he thrust his knife's blade into the fire. The puncture wounds had started to close, but, judging by the swelling and fever, they were infected. When the knife was sterile, he pulled it from the fire and let it cool. He disliked the task he had to perform, especially on this unconscious girl. He was no surgeon, and his memory of what such men had done to him filled him with dismay that he should be forced to do the same thing to another, but he had no choice.

  With a swift stroke, he sliced open the puncture wounds and released a trickle of pus and blood. He squeezed and washed the cut in clean water, then put his mouth over it and sucked out the last dregs, spitting it out. Tassin moaned, her eyelids fluttering. When he was satisfied that the wound was clean, he rummaged in his medical pouch and found the antiseptic cream. He smeared a little on and bound her arm with a clean bandage.

  Emptying out the pouch, he sorted through its contents until he found what he was looking for; an ampoule of antibiotic. Breaking off the glass cap, he pushed the needle into her arm and injected it. He repacked the bag, then checked her temperature again. Her brow was cool, but she shivered now with genuine cold. Sabre stripped off his wet boots, socks and trousers, stretched out beside her and pulled her into his arms, dragging the blanket over them. Her naked proximity kept him awake for a while, but he fell asleep when her shivers ceased.

  Tassin woke cosy and comfortable, sandwiched between soft blanket and warm skin. She stretched and sighed, then started from her pleasant doze when she realised that she was naked except for her knickers. What was more, her wounds throbbed with renewed venom and she lay in Sabre's arms, her cheek pillowed on his chest. She clutched the blanket around her and raised her head to look at him. His brow band flashed sporadically, with only a few green flickers. She tried to move away, then froze when his arms tightened. He opened his eyes and smiled, removing his arm from beneath her to roll onto his side, prop his cheek on his hand and regard her with mocking eyes.

  "Good morning."

  "You're back."

  "I'm afraid so."

  "What happened to my clothes?" she asked.

  "I had to take them off."

  "You... you... Why?"

  "They were wet."

  "No they were not."

  "They were after I dumped you in the river," he said.

  "Why did you do that? I don't remember that."

  "No, you were unconscious."

  "I was?" Confusion flooded her. "What happened to me?"

  "The wound in your arm, where the wolf bit you, was infected. You were running a dangerously high temperature, so I had to dump you in the stream to cool you down."

  "So you took off my clothes."

  He inclined his head. "Well, yes, afterwards. They were wet."

  "What else did you do?"

  "Nothing. Well, I had to cut your arm and wash out the pus."

  "What else?"

  "Nothing." He met her eyes. "What do you think I did? You nearly died, and the cyber wouldn't have done anything, because you didn't ask it for help. I realised that something was wrong, and I was able to take over again, just in time to rush you to the river. Why didn't you tell the cyber you were sick? It would have helped you. If I hadn't been able to get free, you'd have died. All you had to do was tell the cyber that you required medical attention. It would have scanned you, diagnosed the problem, and done exactly what I did."

  "I didn't know I was sick, just that I was cold."

  "Silly girl."

  Tassin pulled the blanket closer to her neck, struggling to quell an intense sense of vulnerability.

  He looked puzzled. "Just what, exactly, do you think I did to you?"

  "Nothing. But you saw me..." Her face grew warm, and she looked away.

  "Naked? It's not the first time I've seen a naked woman, and it's not like I planned it or anything. I had to take off your wet clothes, or you might have caught pneumonia."

  Sabre tucked the blanket around her and rose to light the fire. She sat up, nursing her throbbing arm. He wore only his silken undershorts, and she surmised that he had also got wet when he had dunked her in the stream. He took their clothes outside to hang in the sun, and returned as she was removing the bandage. Her arm was still swollen, and a fresh cut dissected the puncture wounds.

  Sabre examined it and smeared ointment on it, then rebandaged it. He left to fetch water in the pot the Andorans had given them, putting it on the fire to heat for tea. Tassin was glad he was himself again
, yet resentful that he had removed her clothes. His right eye was black and swollen almost shut, and mottled bruises marred half of his face, while others covered his chest and arms in strange patterns, like bizarre shadows. His right arm looked as if it had been dipped in blue ink from elbow to wrist, and she wondered how he ignored the pain.

  "Why did my wound go bad, and not yours?" she asked.

  "You were bitten by an animal. Such wounds usually get infected; animals have dirty mouths. You had blood poisoning, but fortunately it didn't have time to get into your system. I wouldn't have got an infection even from an animal bite, though. I have an immune system that can defeat the entire microbe population of a planet without breaking a sweat."

  "Is your arm sore?"

  He glanced down at the blackened limb. "Fair to middling."

  "It was broken."

  "Still is."

  "Then you should put a splint on it."

  He shook his head, smiling. "There's no need. The barrinium plating was a bit bent, but now that the cyber's straightened it, it will knit. It forms its own splint."

  "Oh." She regarded him with grave awe. "Did you really drown?"

  Sabre sprinkled tealeaves into the pot and stirred it. "Almost. I went into a blind panic, and that's when the cyber took over. I passed out, and when I woke up I was lying on the bank and the cyber was in charge."

  "You must hate water."

  He nodded. "Deep stuff."

  "The cyber didn't see the magic."

  "Nope. Machines have a blind spot when it comes to magic, luckily. I guess it proves that when technology encounters magic, technology wins through sheer logic."

  "Will the cyber be able to take over again?"

  Sabre frowned, glancing out of the cave mouth. "That magician's still out there, licking his wounds. He may try again, even without the muscle-bound moron, in which case, the cyber is our only effective weapon. It's hard for me to ignore what I see, which is why those illusions are effective. The cyber doesn't perceive them at all."