"I was about to..." Tarl shook his head. "You always have to make it difficult for me, don't you?"
"That should have been the first thing out of your mouth, not complaints."
"I wasn't... I'm just concerned."
"I still have to get us out of this mess,” Sabre said, “and I can't do that sitting around."
"A few more days wouldn't make any difference, except to your ankles."
"Leave my ankles out of it, okay?"
Tarl sighed. "Fine. I don't want to fight with you."
"I aim to keep my word. Count on it."
"Why the hell do you hate me so much?"
"If you don't know that, you're stupider than I thought."
"All I've ever done is try to help you."
Sabre sank down on the sofa. "No, mostly you've carped about my bio-status, shovelled that cyber ration crap into me and generally treated me like a bloody cyber."
"Okay, I admit, I've found it hard to ignore the fact that you are still a bloody cyber, no matter how much you hate it."
Sabre jumped up and grabbed the front of Tarl's jacket, almost lifting him off his feet. "That's the best way to piss me off."
"What are you then? A human being with a few additions? An ex-cyborg who still has all his enhancements? No matter what you call it, you can't change what you are. You require specialised care, special nutrients, and someone who understands you. That's what you hate about me, isn't it?"
Sabre dragged him closer. "No, I just don't like having my nose rubbed in it all the time. I managed fine without a damned technician looking after me before you came along."
"No, you didn't. On Omega Five you were so run down and undernourished you lost a fight with a normal man."
"He had help from a magician."
"The guy who owned your cyber back then was an idiot," Tarl said. "You don't send a cyber to a primitive world on a prolonged mission. Okay, you survived, as a cyber will, but he put you in a lot of unnecessary danger. Perhaps he didn't care if you survived, but I do. When someone buys a cyber, they're taught the basics of looking after one, what to feed him, where to take him when he's injured, what he's capable of, and so on. Tassin doesn't know any of that."
"You have no idea about the ill treatment cybers suffer, do you? I was fed bloody dog food by one of my supposedly educated owners."
"The universe is full of idiots, okay? The point is, while I'm around, I'll see to it that you get the correct treatment."
"To keep me in peak fighting condition."
Tarl nodded. "Yeah. If I hadn't done it, Ramadaus' cyber might have killed you."
"I know how to look after myself. I don't need a bloody technician."
"Oh really? And who would have helped you to overcome the Corsair poisoning? Huh? Who would have overridden Cybercorp’s reprogramming of your control unit?" Tarl demanded. "I was glad to do it. I want to help you."
"To assuage your guilt? So you can study me?"
"At least I have guilt. And yeah, you're a fascinating anomaly." Tarl's eyes flicked to the brow band. "And I'd like to know what the hell is wrong with your control unit now."
Sabre shoved him away, making him stagger back. "I have control of it, that's what."
"That's impossible. The control circuits only work one way."
"Well now they work the other way. If you want to know how, you'll have to ask the being who healed me."
"Or I could study you."
"You just don't stop, do you? I should have chucked you in that fire."
Tarl smiled, tugging his jacket straight. "But you didn't, because you couldn't. You're too damned human now for that."
"Humans do shit like that all the time."
"But not you. You're a good guy. That's why you don't scare me with your threats. I know you're bluffing."
Sabre rubbed his brow. His fingers encountered the brow band and gripped it, tugging at it as if trying to rip it from his head. He growled in frustration and swung away to smash it into the wall, leaving an oblong dent in the metal and making Tassin jump.
Tarl shook his head. "You're also still a cyber. You always will be. And I, for one, am very grateful that you are. If you weren't I'd be dead."
"If I was a cyber, I wouldn't have rescued you unless Tassin ordered me to."
"Okay." Tarl held up his hands in a placating gesture. "You're free. I don't know if Tassin would have risked your life to save me, and I wouldn't blame her if she hadn't. It's a privilege having you as a friend."
"I'm not your friend."
"Then why did you save me?"
Sabre stepped closer and gripped Tarl’s throat. "Ask me that question again, and I'll break your neck."
"No you won't. Why did you save me?"
Sabre released Tarl and punched him in the solar plexus, making him double over with a grunt. "So I could do that."
"Sabre, stop it," Tassin said.
Tarl straightened, clutching his chest. "That was just a tap. You can do better than that."
"Tarl, stop goading him," she admonished, frowning.
"Stay out of it," Tarl said.
Sabre scowled. "Don't tell her what to do."
"Come on, Sabre," Tarl said. "You said you were going to beat the crap out of me. What are you waiting for?"
Sabre gripped Tarl's arms, lifted him off his feet and slammed him against the wall. Tarl chuckled and grimaced. "That didn't hurt much. Try harder. Are you angry yet?"
Sabre released him and smashed his fist into the wall beside his head, making him flinch.
"You missed,” Tarl jeered. “My head's over here, dummy."
"A little while ago, you were too scared to spar with me, now you're trying to make me hurt you?"
"I'm proving a point. Cyborg."
Sabre's fist skimmed Tarl's cheek and hit the wall beside his head with a bang that made him wince.
"Come on! Do it!" Tarl goaded.
Sabre drew back his fist, gripping Tarl's throat with his other hand.
"Go on," Tarl squeaked.
Sabre's fist quivered, then he lowered it, releasing ex-cyber tech. "No."
"Why not?"
Sabre shook his head, his nostrils flared.
"Come on,” Tarl said. “What happened to beating the crap out of me?"
"I don't want to."
"Why not? You don't mind doing it to the odd Trykon who's stupid enough to challenge you, do you?" Tarl's fist shot out and hit Sabre on the cheek hard enough to jerk his head to the side.
Sabre retreated, rubbing his face. "Piss off."
Tarl advanced, punching Sabre in the ribs. "What are you, a wimp?"
Sabre turned and walked away. To Tassin's amazement and horror, Tarl grabbed him around the throat from behind, pulling him into a choke hold. Instead of hurling Tarl to the ground, as she expected, Sabre merely snorted.
"You of all people should know you can't choke a cyber," he said.
"Oh, so you are a cyber!"
Sabre reached up and gripped one of Tarl's fingers, twisting it. Tarl released him with a yelp, nursing his finger.
Sabre turned to him. "Count yourself lucky I choose not to beat the crap out of you, and quit trying to provoke me, it won't work."
"But why? That's what I'm trying to make you see. Why won't you do it to me? Think about it."
Sabre shrugged. "I don't want to."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"But I do," Tarl said. "It's the same reason you wouldn't hurt Tassin, isn't it? Not exactly the same, of course. You don't mind hurting me a bit, whereas you’d never dream of intentionally hurting her, right?"
"No."
"Do you want to know why you don't want to beat me up, no matter how much I provoke you?"
"Another of your bullshit theories?"
Tarl shook his head, nursing his finger. "No. Pure fact. Something you feel, but don't understand."
"So what is it?"
"I'm your friend."
Sabre snorted again. "You wis
h."
"No, I just proved it. If you really hated me, you wouldn't have hesitated to punch out my lights as soon as I started irritating you. If I'd been a stranger, what would you have done?"
Sabre frowned. "Thumped you."
"Right. But you didn't. And that's why you saved me, because I'm your friend."
Tassin said, "I recall a little while ago you telling me that Sabre didn't even like you."
"He doesn't."
"I don't," Sabre agreed.
"So how can you be his friend?"
Tarl hesitated, then asked, "Ever heard of a love-hate relationship?"
Tassin raised her brows. "Now you're really going to confuse him."
"That's why I wasn't going to bring it up."
"Now you'll have to explain it."
"Yeah. Thanks." Tarl sat on the sofa.
"If Tassin hadn't brought it up, I would have," Sabre said.
"Okay, it's like this. We've been together for a while, been through a few scrapes, helped each other out, and generally bonded. You don't like me because I'm a cyber technician, and I bug you about taking care of yourself. But deep down, you've come to trust me, and rely on me to a certain extent. In fact, I don't think you dislike me all that much anymore, do you?"
Sabre looked noncommittal. "I guess."
Tarl smiled. "I had hoped so. I can't tell you how glad I was when you came to my rescue, bud. Thank you."
"So if you knew this when Sabre saved you, why did you goad him now?" Tassin asked.
"To prove to him that he didn't want to beat the crap out of me, and why. It's important that he understands his feelings."
They looked around as the door chimed, and a warrior entered, carrying Sabre's armour. Ignoring the non-coms, he approached his commander.
"Would you like me to help you put this on, Commander?"
"No."
The soldier placed the armour on the table and left.
Tassin eyed it. "What are you going to do?"
"I have to convince a bunch of really unpleasant guys to sell me some fuel."
"You're in no condition to fight," Tarl said.
"I wasn't planning to. That's why I'm taking most of the Trykons with me."
Sabre stripped off his jacket and shirt, picked up the chest armour and tried to strap it on, discovering that it was impossible to do it alone.
Tarl rose and helped him, glancing at the brow band. "Do you now control every aspect of the cyber's functions?"
"Yeah."
"That seventh control light must indicate some sort of feedback. It's the only implant that goes directly into the cerebral cortex. Maybe they reversed the polarity of the implants, but I still don't see how your brain could be controlling the cyber."
"Well it does." Sabre bent to strap on a shin guard.
"Can you activate the cybernetic interface?"
Sabre straightened, and the brow band filled with electric blue light, its hum thrumming the air.
Tarl nodded, looking perplexed. "That shouldn't be possible."
The light died and the hum faded. Sabre bent to strap on the other shin guard. "Well it is."
"Any side effects? Headache, nausea, dizziness?"
"Nope."
"Just a three-day coma."
Tarl sat on the sofa again and watched Sabre adjust the armour, tightening the arm guards until he was satisfied. As he slung the huge sword across his back, Tassin rose and approached him.
"Let me come with you."
"Not a chance."
"Then promise me you'll be careful."
"I will."
She hugged him, and Sabre kissed her brow, then strode to the door, where he found Tarl waiting and eyed him.
"What, you want a hug too?"
Tarl smiled. "Your ankles are still weak. You should avoid putting any stress on them, which means no jumping or running."
"Wasn't planning to, but thanks for the tip, bud." Sabre thumped Tarl on the back, making him stagger, flashed Tassin a smile and vanished through the door.
Tarl straightened with a groan, clasping his back. "Shit, that hurt."
She shook her head. "You've opened a whole new can of worms. You know how childish he can be. He's going to make you pay now."
"What did I do?"
"You made him realise that he's friends with a cyber technician. What did you expect?"
"So he's pissed off with me now?"
"I would say so, yes."
"Bastard." Tarl eased himself onto the sofa. "He almost broke my bloody back."
Chapter Twenty Two
Sabre eyed the group of disreputable individuals that faced him, searching for a leader. The Spraylanders all seemed to favour grey clothes, as if it was some sort of uniform, and the only variation was the shade. Their tough, weather-beaten faces bore similar sullen expressions, and their eyes glinted with hostility. Most were tall and well-built, though spare, some were scrawny and shifty-looking, and a few appeared to be more affluent, possessing a better-fed appearance.
A drab brown landscape of dead grass and bare, sandy earth stretched away in an undulating plain to distant snow-capped mountains. Massive boulders, numerous smaller rocks and a few twisted, stunted succulent trees punctuated it, hardly denting the overall air of barren dullness. A gorge that presumably had a river at the bottom of it ran past on the left and continued through the ramshackle city. The gravity was higher than normal, and the thin, chilly air stagnant. The white dwarf sun shone like a spotlight behind pale puce clouds, which hung over the land in a lumpy shroud. The only good thing about this planet, Sabre mused, other than its barely breathable atmosphere, was the vast deposits of gold to be found just under its rocky surface. Although gold was not as valuable as barrinium, it was used in neosin circuitry and spaceship IAs, so there was a demand for it.
Two hundred grim-faced Trykon warriors stood behind him, most of them over two metres tall and made more menacing by their cybernetic enhancements. The two kilometre walk from the ship had made his ankles ache, although he enjoyed being out in the open air again. When they had approached the city, the Spraylanders had come out to meet them, otherwise, he was sure they would have ignored the Trykon warship. Failing to find a man who appeared to be in charge, Sabre addressed the nearest individual in perfect Spraytaal.
"I wish to speak to your leader."
"We have no leader. You deal with all of us," he replied.
"I need neosin for my ship."
A hawk-faced man said, "The one with its lasers aimed at our city."
"Precisely."
A grizzled, bearded man spat. "Why should we help you when you threaten us?"
"For that very reason. I'm prepared to pay for the fuel, or destroy your city, your choice."
A wave of muttering ran through the group, then an elderly man asked, "Pay with what?"
“I have currency.”
A few men chuckled and several grinned, but a pock-marked man said, "That’s useless here. We don't deal with outsiders."
"What do you sell your gold for?"
"Goods. Cloth, metal, weapons."
Sabre turned to Atrel. "What do we have to trade with?"
"Food, spare clothes, armour and swords."
Sabre relayed the information to the Spraylanders, who sniggered.
"Not good enough. We have plenty of food, and we don't use armour or swords," a tall man said. His eyes raked several women warriors and took on a calculating glint. "We'll trade for women."
"Absolutely not."
"Then you have nothing we want. Be off with you."
"There's still the matter of the continued existence of your city."
The men muttered amongst themselves again, and Atrel leant closer to Sabre. "What did they say?"
"They'll trade for women."
"We have ten non-com women."
Sabre raised his brows. "You'd sell them your women?"
"They're slaves. They have no value to us."
"What kind of life would you be
condemning them to?"
Atrel shrugged. "Probably no worse than the one they've already got."
"They're ill-treated?"
"Not especially, but who's to say they'll be ill-treated here? If there's a shortage of women here, they might be treated better."
"They can't even speak the same language."
"Since when was that a problem?"
Sabre shook his head. "I wouldn't know. But I won't force them to live amongst these men. They'd have to agree to it."
"I think some would be willing."
A short, plump Spraylander man said, "If you destroy our city you'll hit the fuel depot as well, and without our co-operation how will you transport it to your ship?"
Sabre turned to him. "Perhaps we can trade for women, provided you don't ill-treat them."
"We won't."
"Will they be slaves?"
"No. They'll be wives," a handsome middle-aged man stated.
"How many do you want?"
"How many have you got?"
Sabre turned to Atrel. "Call the ship and find out how many of the slave women will be willing to become Spraylander wives."
Atrel spoke into his com-link, and then they waited. Sabre sat on a rock and rubbed his aching ankles. Almost half an hour later, Atrel's com-link beeped, and he read the message on it.
"Seven women have volunteered."
Sabre nodded and stood up to face the Spraylanders. "We have seven."
A wave of muttering went through them, and they looked excited. The plump man turned to Sabre. "How much neosin do you want for them?"
"Fourteen crystals." It was barely enough to get them to Omega Five.
"Done."
Sabre was surprised by the swiftness of the agreement, and wondered if he should have asked for more. He turned to Atrel. "Have the women sent here."
Atrel spoke into the com-link, and once more they waited. Sabre returned to his perch on the rock with a sigh. He could only postulate that the ladies were packing, and wondered how long it would take. Almost an hour later, the women arrived, escorted by a solitary warrior. They wore plain, coarse grey clothes, and each carried a bundle of possessions. They looked wary, eyeing the Spraylanders with suspicion and misgiving.
To Sabre's amazement, the Spraylanders who wore caps removed them, and they all looked rather sheepish. Several attempted to tidy their appearance, smoothed their hair or slapped dust from their clothes. They jostled for position, casting the women warm, and in Sabre's opinion, rather pathetic smiles. One woman, who looked wearier than the rest, dumped her bundle on the ground, and three men hurried forward as if to help her. Several Trykon warriors drew their swords and stepped forward to block their way.
The Cyber Chronicles VI - Warrior Breed Page 26