The Cyber Chronicles VI - Warrior Breed

by T C Southwell

  Sabre measured the distance between them, then glanced around for other possible routes. The ceiling had been vaporised, and only two beams remained intact. The walls were gone, leaving beams running across the chasm, but too far away to be of any use. Blood ran down the side of Tarl's face from his hair, and his clothes were shredded and charred. The fumes and heat were taking their toll, and he looked ready to pass out. Sabre swung away, shoving men from his path.

  "Stand aside! Clear a path!"

  They moved aside, looking puzzled as he strode down the corridor for about two metres, which the cyber estimated to be a sufficient distance. As soon as the scrolling figures in his mind turned green he pivoted, steeling himself for what was to come. He sprinted towards the chasm, the warriors shouting in dismay when they realised his intent. Sabre kicked off from the edge of the gap and sailed across it, the heat engulfing him like a blast furnace from below. His feet hit the floor beside Tarl, and he threw out his hands to prevent himself from crashing into the wall. The floor creaked, but held.

  Tarl looked up with watering eyes, soot streaking his sweaty face. "Are you bloody mad?" The fire's roar forced him to shout.

  Sabre crouched beside him. "Possibly. Are you hurt?"

  "Just burns and scrapes. What the hell are you going to do?"

  "Get you out of here."

  "You can't, the jump's too far, even for you."

  Sabre glanced at the far side, and a red light flashed in his mind. Without a run up, and carrying Tarl, it was too far in the cyber's estimation. The cyber had been wrong before, however, and Sabre had exceeded the standards a few times.

  "We're going to make it," he yelled.

  "You don't have a hope in hell if you intend to try to take me with you. Maybe on your own you could do it. Get out of here. Don't be a bloody idiot."

  "I didn't come here to leave without you, now climb on my back."

  "No." Tarl coughed. "That'll kill us both."

  "Don't force me to knock you out first. You'll just make it harder."

  "Why are you doing this? You hate me."

  "Because I can."

  Tarl shook his head. "You can't, so don't kill yourself trying."

  "I don't intend to kill myself."

  "You can't make that jump!"

  Sabre gripped the front of Tarl's jacket and yanked him closer, glaring into his eyes. "You'll do as I damn well say! Now!"

  Tarl spread his hands. "Okay, okay. But think about this. If you don't make that jump, Tassin will be left alone amongst the Trykons. How long do you think she'll last?"

  "I have no intention of letting that happen."

  "You can't -" Tarl broke off as Sabre's grip tightened, choking him. "Okay!"

  Sabre released him and turned away, balancing precariously on the edge of the ledge. Tarl wound his arms around the cyber's neck, and Sabre lifted him off the floor, pulling his legs around so they clasped his waist.

  "Hold on." Sabre stepped back until Tarl's back was pressed against the wall, his eyes on the far side of the chasm. The red light in his mind flashed more insistently, but he bent his knees like a crouching cat. He kicked off with all his strength, and as he did the fragment of floor gave way. He sailed across the gap, his arms outstretched. His hands hit the edge of the floor, his fingers clamped onto the metal, and he swung from it. Warriors reached down to grasp his arms and pull him up, but the heat forced them back with foul oaths. It burnt Sabre's skin, and the edge of the floor was hot enough to scorch his hands.

  Tarl shouted, "You can make it on your own. Thanks for trying."

  "No!"

  Tarl loosened his hold, preparing to let go of Sabre's neck. The cyber released his grip, and they fell into the inferno.

  "Hold on!" Sabre yelled, waving his arms to keep his legs under him, and Tarl's grip tightened again. Flames swept over them, making Tarl grunt with pain. Sabre closed his eyes as the heat seared him. A legion of red lights flashed in his mind, and the scanners showed the remains of the floor far below. A beam flashed past, and another rose towards him. He grabbed it, but the speed of his fall and Tarl's weight combined to make it impossible to hold on. Hanging from a beam in the middle of an inferno was not a terribly good idea, anyway, but the momentary hold slowed his fall considerably. Another beam provided a slowing hold as they plummeted towards the fires below.

  Sabre's boots hit the floor with brutal force and a crunch of breaking bones. His knees bent to absorb the impact, and he rolled sideways over Tarl, who grunted as the air was punched from his lungs. Sabre held his breath in the searing heat and smoke, the scanners and the cyber's optical relay providing him with sight. Tarl released him, coughing. Sabre picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

  "Leave me, you bloody idiot!" Tarl shouted.

  Sabre ignored the pain that lanced from his ankles and raced through the flames towards the nearest wall. As it loomed out of the smoke, he released Tarl's legs and raised his fists, punching through it as he hit it. His fists tore holes in the thin metal plates, and he bent his head so the brow band took the brunt of the impact, hardly slowing. The metal tore as he hit it, and he broke through, staggering into a corridor filled with smoke. He ran down it, his ankles sending agony shooting up his legs. Another wall loomed ahead, and he smashed through it, reeling into a room clear of smoke. Several Trykon warriors tended wounded comrades, and looked up in surprise when Sabre burst through the wall with a screech of metal, their mouths dropping open. Sabre fell to his knees, dumping Tarl on the floor as two warriors hurried over to him.

  Opening his eyes, Sabre raised his head. "Get him to the hospital, and bring a stretcher for me."

  "Commander?" The warriors gaped at him.

  "I'd rather not walk there on two broken ankles, so just do it!" Sabre bowed his head, leaning forward on his hands with a grimace of pain.

  Tarl coughed, glaring at him. "You're a fucking idiot."

  "You're alive, aren't you? Is that the thanks I get?"

  Tarl shook his head, wiping his watering eyes. "I said you wouldn't make that jump."

  "I swear, when you get out of hospital, I'm going to beat the crap out of you."

  "I'm looking forward to it," Tarl said as two warriors gripped his arms and lifted him to his feet, helping him to stagger from the room. Another two ran in with a stretcher, and Sabre climbed onto it.

  ****

  Tassin looked up as a commotion started at the hospital door, alarmed by the shouts of Sabre's title. Medics dashed past her, and she rose and followed them, her heart twisting in dismay as she glimpsed Sabre being carried in on a stretcher. Tarl tottered in between two warriors, who dumped him on an unoccupied bed and hurried after Sabre. The crowd around Sabre's stretcher thickened into a wall of broad, muscular backs, and she stopped beside Tarl.

  "What happened? How badly is he hurt?"

  Tarl's face, neck and arms were reddened, and ugly blisters formed on them. "He's okay, don't worry. He saved my life."

  "What's wrong with him?"

  Tarl shook his head. "If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't believe it."

  Tassin gripped his jacket and shook him. "Tell me!"

  "I was trapped on a ledge after the explosion -"

  "Tell me what's wrong with him! Is he burnt?"

  "No, no he didn't look burnt." Tarl frowned. "Which is odd, considering he was in front of me on the way down. He has two broken ankles, that's all. We fell five decks."

  Shock closed her throat, and she gulped. "How did you survive?"

  "He broke my fall."

  She glanced at the impenetrable wall of backs. "You should be taking care of him, not them."

  "I don't think they'd let me, and anyway, I'm sure they can manage to put on a couple of ankle casts." Tarl coughed, wheezing.

  She studied him with a frown. "What's wrong with you?"

  "Smoke inhalation. I'll be okay."

  "Tell me what happened."

  By the time Tarl finished the tale, Tassin was wide eyed and sha
king her head in disbelief. "That's incredible."

  "Yeah."

  The number of medics and warriors around Sabre thinned, and she pushed her way to his side, taking his hand. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

  "Hi."

  "How do you feel?"

  "Woozy. They gave me something for the pain." He looked down at his feet, which were encased in plaster to the knees. "It didn't go as planned."

  "You're lucky to be alive."

  "Not luck. I'm hard to kill."

  A warrior gripped Tassin's arm and pulled her away. "The commander needs to rest."

  Sabre said, "Leave her alone."

  Tassin pulled up a stool beside Sabre's bed and studied him, unable to find any sign of burns. He closed his eyes, and she held his hand.

  "Why aren't you burnt like Tarl?"

  "Don't know."

  Sensing that he was slipping into sleep, she settled down to wait, thinking about how much time she spent at his bedside while he was injured. He had barely recovered from the last trauma, and now he was hurt again. He was constantly putting himself in harm’s way, she reflected, usually to save someone, and she had lost count of how many times he had saved her life, or how many others he had rescued. The unfairness of it saddened her, and she blinked away the tears that stung her eyes. One day, hopefully soon, they would be safe on Omega Five.

  ****

  Atrel frowned at the group leader who had just related an unbelievable tale. "So he has two broken ankles, after falling five decks?"

  "Many warriors witnessed him fall, and we saw him smash through the wall on deck four."

  Atrel shook his head. "That sounds like pure fiction. And yet I believe you. That man never ceases to amaze me." He turned to Vior. "When we reach Ragel Nine, put us into orbit and continue to make repairs. We'll land when the commander has recovered."

  Chapter Twenty One

  Tassin put the plate of food on Sabre's bedside table and sat on the chair, watching him sleep. Four days had passed since the battle, and he had been moved to his cabin, which was more comfortable, plus the hospital beds were needed for badly wounded men and women. Tarl recovered from his burns next door, and hers were healing well. A medic came twice a day to administer painkillers, which kept Sabre in a groggy state, so he slept most of the time. The last dose was due to wear off soon, and when it did he would need to eat. Tarl had recommended certain foods that were better for a cyber than most, and she had piled the plate with synthetic eggs, meat and beans. She took hold of his hand.

  Sabre sighed and opened his eyes. The medics had stripped him to his shorts, and the sheet had slipped down to his waist. He pulled it up, and she smiled.

  "I've seen it before, you know."

  He eyed her. "What?"

  "Your chest."

  "Ah. That. Right, well, I don't want you getting any ideas of taking advantage of me in my helpless state."

  "Helpless? You?" She snorted.

  "Against you I am. All I can do is run, and that's a little hard with two concrete boots."

  "To say nothing of the broken ankles inside them."

  "Them too."

  She leant forward and tugged on the sheet. "Such modesty, My Lord. It's so seductive."

  His brows rose. "Really? You mean if I was brazen it would be less appealing?"

  "No."

  "So either way I'm in trouble."

  "Definitely."

  "I should ban you from my room."

  She smiled. "You wouldn't do that."

  "No, you'd make too much trouble."

  "I came to feed you, not seduce you." She picked up the plate.

  "Oh, good." Sabre sat up.

  Tassin loaded a spoon and held it in front of his mouth. "Open wide."

  "My feet are in plaster, not my hands."

  Tassin grinned and handed him the spoon and plate.

  "How's Tarl?" he enquired.

  "Recovering well." She hesitated. "Kernan's dead."

  "Yeah, I thought so. He wasn't doing very well on that synthetic food anyway. I don't think he'd have survived for too much longer."

  She nodded. "He was very unhappy."

  "Yeah."

  "The repairs are almost finished. Atrel says as soon as you're back on your feet, we can land."

  "Good."

  The door chimed, and a warrior medic entered.

  Sabre waved his spoon at him. "I don't need any more of that stuff."

  "Yes, Commander."

  The medic left, and Tassin pondered the peculiar traditions of the Trykons. There were plenty of non-com medics, but only a warrior medic was allowed to tend to Sabre, usually a group leader. Non-com medics were not good enough, apparently. When Sabre finished his food, she put the plate on the table, sat beside him and leant on his chest, idly stroking his shoulder.

  "I scare you, don't I?" she murmured.

  "You've only just figured that out?"

  "It's a bit hard to believe."

  "You terrify me."

  "Why?"

  He rolled his eyes. "Well, my experience with the opposite sex in precisely zero, and if that's not bad enough, I can't even defend myself."

  She giggled. "A cyber, afraid of a girl."

  "Yeah. And I don't scare that easy."

  "You'll leap across a burning chasm to save a man you don't even consider a friend, yet I frighten you."

  "Don't make it sound any more ridiculous than it already is," he said.

  "Maybe you should use some of that bravery to defeat your fear."

  "It's not that easy. I was trained to deal with life-threatening situations, not girls."

  She lowered her gaze to his chest, her fingers tracing patterns on it. "You could have been killed trying to save Tarl."

  "This is blackmail, isn't it?"

  "No. I just don’t want to lose you."

  Sabre drew her close and stroked her hair, and Tassin nestled up to him.

  ****

  Two days later, the medics removed Sabre's casts after x-rays revealed that the bones were almost knitted, and the barrinium reinforcing was now sufficient support on its own. His cyber issue camouflage clothes were burnt beyond repair, and the Trykons provided a pair of well-fitting dark grey trousers made from stretch material, a matching jacket and black shirt. Gold embroidery decorated the shoulders and sleeves of the waist-length jacket, and a spray of golden feathers was embroidered on the right side of the chest. He limped to the bridge, where Atrel greeted him with a smile.

  "Commander. It's good to see you on your feet again."

  "It's good to be walking again. How go the repairs?"

  "We've done all we can. The ship is able to land."

  "Good." Sabre studied the ugly brown planet in the screens. "Let's do it then. I want us within weapons' range of that outpost, and able to target it with the main lasers."

  "You're going to threaten them?"

  "Spraylanders are a tough, unforgiving bunch of guys who believe in kicking a man when he's down, preferably until he's dead. They give no quarter and only respect force. They also have no honour. They've colonised some of the nastiest, barely habitable worlds that no one else wants, and hate everyone in general. They're descended from a penal colony that revolted and gained its freedom, and their bitterness runs deep. They won't help us unless we make them."

  Atrel nodded and relayed the orders. Thrusters fired, and the ship broke orbit and sank towards the planet. Landing a spaceship the size of a destroyer was a tricky procedure fraught with danger, which was why they rarely did. Within minutes the screens filled with fire, and the ship shuddered as it fell through the atmosphere.

  Fortunately, Nemesis was designed to land, but she was one of the largest to attempt it, and her entry into an atmosphere would cause a certain amount of unavoidable damage. To those on the ground, she would look like a meteorite burning up in the atmosphere. Vast tracts of strip mining operations became visible as the ship neared the surface, square wounds surrounded by rocky scabs, massi
ve automated mining machines kicking up clouds of dust. The collection of ramshackle buildings that was the Spraylanders' outpost passed below, and the antigravity kicked in, the generators' hum rising to a howl as the ship descended. As it neared the ground, it turned to face the outpost, just visible in the distance. The antigravity generators' howl deepened as the ship settled on its belly, four stabilising legs whining out. The ship was too large for the legs to support; they were merely to keep it upright.

  As the sound of the generators died away, Sabre turned to Atrel. "I want every warrior who can be spared to come with me. A skeleton crew will remain on the ship. If a Spraylander comes within a hundred metres of it, shoot him dead. Send my armour to my cabin. I'm going to prepare."

  Sabre found Tarl waiting with Tassin in his cabin, seated beside her on the couch, the burns on his face half healed. The technician wore an odd collection of new clothes, although only a little less peculiar than his original outfit had been, which comprised one of the loose off-white shirts Trykon non-coms wore, a tough brown cloth jacket and matching trousers. Tassin’s black leather jacket had been lost in the explosion, but she still wore her grey blouse and black jeans, which had only suffered a little damage. Tarl rose when Sabre entered, looking nervous and concerned.

  "You really shouldn't be walking around on those ankles yet," he admonished.

  Sabre glared at him. "No kidding? Oh, and don't bother to thank me for saving your life."