The Cyber Chronicles 04: Cyborg

by T C Southwell

  "Why do you know all this?"

  Sabre shrugged. "The cyber remembers everything."

  Shasen ran a hand over his hair. "That's horrific. Even worse that I thought. No one knows this stuff."

  "Would they care?"

  "Some would. Okay, so most of your memory seems to be intact. What did you lose?"

  Sabre glanced at Tassin. "I was free before, for a year, when the cyber was first broken. That's all gone."

  "He also has co-ordination problems and slowed reflexes," Tassin interjected.

  Shasen tapped on the keyboard and studied the image of a brain that appeared on the screen. "If only I could scan your brain, I'd have a better idea of what might be damaged. Unfortunately, the barrinium skull plating makes that impossible. I can have a good guess at where those hooks are, though. It uses your brain to store its data, so it must have hooks here and here."

  He pointed at the screen. "When it shocked you, it selected areas that it's not using, so it only wiped out your memories, not its own. It also must have hooks in your motor cortex to control your body, and those areas also received shocks."

  "He has convulsions when he fights the cyber," Tassin said.

  "Yeah, he would. So we can assume that some of your motor cortex is damaged too. The brain doesn't heal, but it does compensate for damage."

  "That's all very interesting, but how can you help him?"

  "There's a drug that promotes re-connectivity. I'd like to try that. It should speed up the restoration of your memories, and help to get more back. The motor cortex damage will also benefit, but I recommend that you help it along with exercises. You may also have some brain swelling from the trauma, which I can help with another drug." Shasen went over to a cabinet and unlocked it, taking out two bottles, which he handed to the cyber.

  Sabre read the labels and nodded. "These are the correct drugs."

  "So you'll allow me to inject you?"

  "Yes."

  Shasen drew a small amount of each drug into a syringe, mixing them together. "You'll have to remove your shirt."

  Sabre obliged, and Shasen studied the thin, pale scars that ran down the centre of his chest and along his arms, shaking his head in amazement. "They did all this in one operation? Bloody butchers."

  Shasen tied a band around Sabre's biceps to bring up a vein, slipping the needle in. Tassin looked away as he drew blood into the syringe and injected the drugs. "The side effects of these drugs are drowsiness, some dizziness and dry mouth."

  He pulled out the needle, and Sabre put his shirt on again. Shasen turned to Tassin. "What happened to your hands?"

  She glanced down at them. "A few cuts."

  "May I see them?"

  "They've been treated."

  "Nevertheless, you probably need a tetanus jab."

  She shrugged and allowed him to examine her hands, then inject her.

  He turned to Sabre. "Thank you for the information."

  The cyber nodded, his eyes drooping. "You can't tell anyone, or Myon Two will come down on you like a tonne of bricks."

  "I know, but there are other ways of spreading the word."

  Kole chuckled. "Another Net site? I wouldn't recommend it. Myon Two will shut it down in a few hours, and then kill you."

  "This time it'll be anonymous. Are they after you, too?"

  Kole nodded. "Of course. We wouldn't be here if they weren't."

  "Right." He turned to Sabre. "You need another three injections over the next three days."

  "Give me the drugs and I'll do it."

  Shasen hesitated, then handed the bottles to Tassin, since Sabre looked distinctly sleepy. They left the young neurologist gazing after them with a mixture of regret and sorrow, returning to the ship, where Sabre went straight to sleep. Kole made coffee, and Tassin sat with him on the bridge, gazing out at the spaceport.

  Kole turned to her. "He's more than a friend to you, isn't he?"

  Tassin glanced at him in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

  "I've seen the way you look at him. It's pretty obvious."

  She looked down, chewing her lip. "Yes, he is."

  "I guess there's no hope for me then."

  "I... didn't know you..."

  He snorted. "I've tried not to be obvious, but hell, Tassin, you're a beautiful, intelligent girl. Any man would find you irresistible."

  "Is that why you've helped me so much?"

  "Yeah. I was trying to impress you." He sighed. "You do realise that he has no way of returning your feelings."

  "He will when he remembers."

  After a short, bitter silence, he murmured, "In that case, I'll access my accounts, refuel, and drop you off on Charon Six, where your top bidder lives. As soon as you've paid me back, you're on your own."

  "You're angry with me."

  "Hell yeah! There should be a law against girls falling in love with bloody cybers. You misled me. You should have told me the truth in the beginning."

  "If I'd told you, you wouldn't have helped me."

  "Not as much, no. You used me."

  "I didn't know you felt -"

  He frowned. "Don't give me that. You knew."

  "I wasn't sure. I'm sorry. You've done so much. We both owe you a great debt."

  "Yeah, yeah. I just hope I've got a life to go back to. Myon Two is going to make it hell for a while."

  She leant forward. "Then come with us. There are plenty of lovely young women on Omega Five."

  "No." He gazed at her. "You know what the worst part is? He doesn't feel a damn thing for you. Except gratitude, of course. He'll never be normal, and I doubt he even knows what love is. Hell, he's sure never had it."

  "He has, from me, and he returned it."

  He shook his head. "How can you be sure that what he feels is really love, and not gratitude or just friendship? Most of us have love our whole lives, from our parents and siblings, then youthful relationships, until we finally find the real thing, hopefully. People who don't have it are messed up."

  "If you're trying to talk me out of it, you can't. I know what I feel."

  "Will that be enough? They messed with his mind, and in a big way. Look, I like the guy, but he could be psychotic."

  "I knew him for a whole year. I was with him every day. He's not... psychotic, whatever that is."

  Kole sipped his coffee. "That was three years ago. He could have changed. Going back under cyber control after being free was probably worse than if he'd never known freedom."

  She turned away. "I don't want to discuss it."

  "Fine. Tomorrow we leave for Charon Six."

  "At least he won't have to fight. Why wait until tomorrow?"

  "All right." Kole put down his mug and turned to the screen beside him, tapping on the keyboard. Several moments passed, then he leapt up with a foul curse.

  "They've frozen my accounts! Those bastards!"

  Her heart sank. "There's no money?"

  "No!"

  Tassin gazed at him, biting her lip. Now that he knew the truth, would he turn them over to Myon Two to make his life easier? There was no longer anything in it for him. "What are we going to do?"

  "Your beloved cyber is going to have to earn his keep, that's what."

  She closed her eyes as a wave of relief washed over her. "Much as that prospect dismays me, thank you for not turning us over to Myon Two to clear your name."

  "Nice thought. Just what kind of a bastard do you take me for?" Kole spun on his heel and marched off the bridge.

  Chapter Seven

  The bald, pugnacious man in charge of the arena fight entries raked Sabre with a hard glance, then hawked and spat. "He looks like a damned cyber. Only real men can compete."

  "He's not a cyber," Kole said. "He's had a few cosmetic changes made, that's all."

  "He don't talk much, does he?"

  Kole turned to Sabre, who stood staring into space. He wore his combat clothes again, since he would require their stretch properties in a fight, and a strip of black cl
oth hid the band, this time tied in place to prevent it being pulled off.

  "Tell the man you're not a cyber," Kole said.

  "I'm not a cyber."

  The official grunted. "Okay. You're number eleven, go and wait in the pits."

  Kole led the way to the edge of the brightly lighted indoor arena, a circular area with a beige pliafoam floor surrounded by tiers of black and red seats. The floor was designed to mimic sand, hard yet pliable, preventing scrapes without getting the combatants dirty. Its surface was pitted with shallow footprints and dents from previous fights. Vast lights shone down from a high ceiling, and bright advertisements scrolled across billboards around the edge of the arena, above the top tier of seats. A crowd of several thousand, mainly men, filled most of the seating, murmured and bought drinks and snacks from circulating vendors. Several brawny men waited in a walled-off area, some doing warm up exercises. A lot of them were battered and scarred, veterans of the arena, Tassin assumed, and a few were fresh-faced youths.

  Most had tattoos, and many had shaved heads. Another official took Sabre's number and opened the gate, allowing him to join the rest of the fighters, who cast him measuring looks before returning to their exercises. Kole found seats for himself and Tassin in a tier above the pits, and they sat down to watch the torpid, grunting wrestling match in the arena. Tassin hated asking Sabre to fight, but each victory would earn him fifty thousand credits, and the overall winner got two hundred thousand.

  Only three days had passed since they had gone to Shasen's lab, and Sabre's thigh wound was only partially healed. The drugs Shasen had given him seemed to have done little good, but the rest had helped. Even so, she was worried about him. Kole had been distant but polite since their last conversation, and she missed his easy camaraderie. Sabre seemed to be avoiding her, too, and she wondered why.

  The fight in the arena ended when one man admitted defeat, and another pair was summoned. Tassin sat through four more fights, and listened to the conversations of the men around her, which proved to be more entertaining. She had never enjoyed the sight of half-naked, sweaty men indulging in grunting duels of brute strength. The other spectators seemed to agree with her; they mourned the lack of skill shown by fighters who merely grappled until one managed to choke or force the other into submission through the application of pain. They were soon in for a treat, she mused.

  The fourth fight ended, and the announcer called out the numbers of the next two fighters, one of whom was Sabre. He wandered into the arena accompanied by a large, well-muscled man who swaggered and cracked his knuckles, raising his fists to incite applause from the crowd.

  "This should be better," the man behind Tassin commented. "Torban's good. Who's his opponent?"

  "Never seen him before," the other man said.

  "He looks like a bloody cyber."

  Sabre had stripped to the waist, revealing the hard-edged musculature of his broad-shouldered, slim-hipped physique, and the red scars of the laser wounds he had had when she bought him were clearly visible. In the centre of the arena, he turned to face his opponent, and she hoped he would not be hurt in his attempt to appear to be a normal man. Torban, who was a good ten centimetres taller than him, and probably weighed half again as much, sneered as he performed the perfunctory bow required before the fight began. He straightened and circled, Sabre mirroring him in the opposite direction. After two complete turns, Torban lunged at Sabre, trying to grab him. The cyber skipped aside and landed a lightning-fast blow on the side of Torban's head. The big man grunted and staggered. If not for the need to hide what he really was, Sabre could have won the fight with that blow, she knew. Torban sidled closer and made a clumsy attempt to kick Sabre, which he easily avoided.

  Torban charged, and Sabre dived aside, snapped into a forward roll and sprang to his feet with a smooth motion that seemed to defy gravity. Torban swung around and came at Sabre again. This time he stood his ground, stepped aside at the last moment and punched Torban in the ribs as he galloped past. The big man staggered again, then turned with a roar of rage and lunged. Sabre performed a graceful backflip, one of his feet hitting Torban in the chin. The big man collapsed, and an official ran into the arena to check on him, then went over to Sabre and raised his arm in victory. The crowd applauded with more enthusiasm as Sabre left the arena.

  "He fights like a damned cyber, too," the man behind Tassin muttered. "Torban never had a chance."

  Another two sluggish brawls took place before Sabre entered the arena again, this time with a slender, youthful opponent who seemed too young to be a threat. The men behind Tassin had other ideas, however.

  "It's Terin! Now we're going to see some action at last."

  Tassin studied the young man, whose physique rivalled Sabre's, tattoos adorning his arms. The crowd cheered and applauded as he walked around the arena with his arms raised. Sabre waited for him in the middle of the arena, and, when Terin finished his premature victory lap, he bowed to his opponent. As Sabre straightened, Terin kicked him on the chin, sending him staggering back.

  Tassin sat up with a gasp of dismay as Terin followed that up with a spinning kick. Sabre ducked and launched himself at Terin as he landed off balance. His kick sent Terin sprawling, but the young fighter rolled to his feet with remarkable agility, backing away. Sabre wiped blood off his lips and scowled at the youth. Terin launched himself again, trying to catch Sabre in a scissor neck hold. The cyber flung himself into a backflip, and his feet hit Terin's leg and sent him into a spin. He fell heavily, rolling to his feet.

  "That guy's good," the man behind Tassin said.

  The fighters exchanged several glancing blows, their skill and agility bringing roars of approval from the crowd. Sabre matched his opponent, appearing only slightly better than him, and Tassin marvelled at his self-control. When Terin made the mistake of straying within the cyber's grasp, however, Sabre pulled him into a choke hold until he signalled his submission. As they left the arena, Tassin turned to Kole.

  "I'm going to see if he's all right. Couldn't you take what he's won and use it to make more gambling?"

  "I could, but I might lose it."

  "Only two more fights then."

  "Then he'll only have one more to win the grand prize." He glanced at the arena as two more men strode out to do battle. "I'll need to refuel on Charon Six to get home."

  She nodded. "All right. It's the least we can do."

  Tassin made her way to the pits, where Sabre leant against the wall, sipping water. A medic moved amongst the fighters, examined their injuries and applied first aid to those who needed it. Only a few men remained in the pits; evidently the losers had left. Sabre approached her, raising his brows.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  He shrugged. "Of course."

  "You were bleeding."

  "It's nothing. I wasn't paying attention."

  "Kole wants you to win the main prize so he can refuel again on Charon Six."

  Sabre cocked his head. "Once you've repaid him, he'll have plenty of money."

  "That's true. Maybe he forgot. I did."

  He smiled, making her heart flutter. "Yes, I suppose he must have."

  Tassin knew from his tone that he did not believe it for a moment, and returned to her seat beside Kole, who glanced at her.

  "How is he?"

  "Fine. But he doesn't have to win the main fight. You'll have plenty of money when I sell the sword on Charon Six."

  "Ah. Yeah, well, he doesn't have to win it, but he has to fight, because by then there will only be two fighters, so he can't withdraw."

  She frowned. "Even if he forfeits?"

  "Not allowed. The crowd will want a final match between the two best fighters. The only way he can get out of it is if he's too badly injured. If he withdraws, he'll lose all his winnings."

  "Why didn't you tell us this before?"

  "It didn't come up, and I didn't think it was important, since it wouldn't have made any difference. He'd still have had to fight."


  "He could pretend to be injured."

  "No one's hit him."

  "That young man hit him in the face."

  Kole snorted. "Even if he pretended to have a sudden bout of appendicitis, you don't want the doctors examining him."

  Tassin nodded and turned to watch the next contest, finding it hard to concentrate on the show. The fight proved to be a particularly violent and bloody one, and the loser was carried off unconscious. Sabre toyed with two more opponents before beating them, giving a good impression of a normal, but skilled fighter, even though he had yet to break a sweat. After the second fight, she went down to the pits again to break the news about the final, which he accepted with a philosophical shrug. The only other man in the pits was the brutal looking individual who had beaten his opponent unconscious. He glared at Sabre's back, and the savage glint in his eyes made her shiver.

  Tassin returned to her seat, only to find that they had to wait fifteen minutes before the last match, to allow Sabre, who had been the last of the two to fight, to rest. The crowd murmured, and money changed hands as bets were laid. Tassin wished she had some to wager on Sabre to make his effort more worthwhile. When at last the two men entered the arena, Sabre looked relaxed, while his opponent shouted insults at the crowd, which roared and threw paper cups.

  "Bloody Gorag," the man behind Tassin muttered. "He's a bastard, but he can fight."

  "He's never been beaten," the other man replied. "My money's on him."

  "I don't know. That little chap's done pretty well for himself."

  "He'll have his work cut out. I don't think he'll win this one. The odds are twenty to one against him."

  "Yeah, but I'd sure like to see Gorag lose."

  In the arena, Gorag tired of goading the crowd and turned to face Sabre, a nasty smirk on his brutal countenance. He towered over the cyber, flexing his muscles in an attempt at intimidation that made the crowd boo and Sabre smile. Tassin found that she was holding her breath and let it out as the men bowed. Gorag lunged at Sabre, who skipped back. Gorag scowled and mouthed obscenities, following Sabre around the arena. He lunged again, trying to punch Sabre in the throat. The cyber swayed aside, allowing the blow to skim past his neck, and punched Gorag in the solar plexus. The big man doubled over, and the crowd roared its approval.