"What happened to him?"
"I gave him a peaceful end." Tarl gazed at the couch. "He died right there on that couch. I thought I knew enough to free him, and then he could have helped me to free others. An impossible dream, until today, when I saw the impossible walk into my camp. When I saw those red lights... I couldn't believe it. I didn’t believe it, sadly, until…" Tarl turned to Sabre and unclipped his armour. "Let's get this off, so I can have a good look at you."
"How badly damaged was your cyber?" Tassin enquired.
"His spine was smashed. He was paralysed from the neck down."
"How did it happen?"
"He was the bodyguard of a family of rich idiots. Their three children took their air-car for a joy ride, disconnected the anti-collision, got horribly drunk and smashed it into a wall. The cyber was the only survivor. The rest, apparently, had to be scraped out of the wreckage with shovels."
"Why didn't he stop them?" she asked, shocked.
"Cybers do as they're told. I expect he tried to stop the car, but he was too late, or they were too stupid to let him. Who knows? He wouldn't tell me. All information about his past owners was classified." Tarl removed Sabre's armour and examined him. "Well, you have been in the wars, haven't you?"
"Enforcers are hunting us," Tassin explained, although he knew the story.
"Please, let him speak." Tarl took hold of Sabre's left arm and flexed his injured elbow. "Tell me if it hurts."
Sabre looked up at him, for Tarl was a few centimetres taller. "It hurts."
"Right." Tarl released his arm and pulled open a cupboard, taking out a syringe and bottle.
"What's that?"
"Anaesthetic."
Sabre stepped back, raising his hands. "Before you start this shit, I'd like a bath, and so would my friends."
Tarl stared at him. "You... of course you do." He put down the syringe. "The washroom's down the passage, third door on the left."
Sabre left, and Tassin watched Tarl, who gazed after him like a father watching his son going away forever. She smiled and wandered closer.
"He's coming back."
"What? Oh, yeah, of course. I'm just... I'm still in shock. He speaks of himself in the first person."
"Why don't cybers ever do that?"
"The control unit has no concept of self, otherwise there's a risk of it developing ego and self-awareness."
"And that's bad?"
He nodded. "In something as dangerous as a cyber, yes."
"Sabre's not dangerous. He's a gentle, kind man."
"I wasn't talking about the host. I'm referring to the control unit. It's an amazing piece of technology, capable of learning a vast amount, but handicapped by its inability to become self-aware. He's a grade A, isn't he?"
"You can't tell?"
"I’m pretty sure, but the only way I could be certain is if I scanned his bar code."
She tilted her head. "What's that?"
"It's an identification tag imbedded in the skin on the back of his skull, containing all the information about him. It's invisible to the naked eye, made from radioactive isotopes."
"I see. Yes, he's a grade A. I thought the difference was easy to see. Sabre can spot them at a glance."
"Some are obvious, but you get high-quality B-grades that look just like a grade A."
She nodded. "Only their plating is flawed."
"Yes."
"How did you discover that cyber hosts are... intelligent?"
He sat on the couch. "I was in maintenance. One of their best techs. One day a cyber was brought in, terribly burnt. It looked like he'd been thrown through a ship's solar sail, exposed to incredible amounts of radiation and electromagnetic power. The control unit was dead, the circuitry completely fried. He was dying. There was nothing I could do to save him... and they wouldn't have allowed me to, anyway. I thought he was... well they're not supposed to be aware.
"He was lying on the bench, blind, in agony, as I discovered. All the other techs had left for the day. We were going to send him to the furnace the next day. I was tidying up. Then he spoke. He whispered 'kill me'. His throat was burnt, you see. He never opened his eyes, and he died a few minutes later, but I realised then that he was aware." Tarl shook his head. "It gave me nightmares. I still have them."
"Then isn't that a way to free them?” Tassin asked. “Fry the brow band's circuitry?"
"No. It would kill them, like it did him."
"So there's no way...?"
"Your friend is unique, and possibly has the key to freeing others, if I can just figure out a way to duplicate what happened to him. The most amazing thing is the control unit's still active. Can he access its information?"
"Yes."
"That's incredible," Tarl said. "On Myon Two I saw hundreds of cybers brought in, mangled, beaten, burnt, with limbs torn off, their brow bands all with six red lights, and I never realised the agony they were in. We were told that their brains had been genetically engineered to be just an interface and a data storage facility. That they were, to all intents and purposes, just bodies. The Cybercorp teachers were utterly convincing. They explained it in minute detail, with diagrams and images, brain scans and dozens of flat line readouts. But they knew."
"Who?"
"Research and development. The ones who design cybers; who test and improve them. Those bastards know."
"And the surgeons."
He glanced at her, raising his brows. "What makes you say that?"
"Because Sabre told me that once a host broke free of his control unit during the operation and killed some of the surgeons in a screaming frenzy before he bled to death."
"I didn't hear about that. If they did realise, and protested, as I did, they're dead." He looked pensive. "His cyber interface hooks must have been faulty, possibly the hooks were not quite in the right place." He cast Tassin an apologetic glance. "Sorry, old habits die hard."
She shrugged, picked up a metal instrument and studied it. "What about the people who cared for the babies for their first year, before the cyber was fitted? Didn't they notice that the babies were normal?"
"No one looked after them." Tarl gave a bitter laugh. "Those bastards would have put a control unit on them at birth, if they could have. As it is, they're incubated for twelve months, not nine. Once they're born, they're kept in semi-restraining foam pods, tube fed and stimulated with lights and noise. No one... cares for them, except the techs who run the machines, and they don't... They never touch them. Once the control unit is fitted they're released into a pen, where they can crawl and interact, their bodily functions regulated by the control units."
Tassin swallowed and put the instrument down, glancing at Kole, who leant against the wall, looking sick.
Tarl went on, "Myon Two is a high-gravity world, one point seven times normal. It promotes strong bone and muscle development, which is enhanced by drugs and hormones."
"Is that why cybers are small?"
He smiled and shook his head. "No. They're designed that way, for optimum speed and agility. Any taller or shorter, and they would be slower. They're the ultimate killing machines, proven time and again."
Kole straightened, frowning. "All very interesting, if a bit nauseating, but I think we should leave this area before Mandure's cybers find this ship."
"They won't. We're in Lord Gaylor's territory. Mandure won't dare to cross the border, and I'm waiting for a shipment to be delivered."
"Where are you headed?"
"Vygon One."
Kole nodded. "Good enough for us."
"What are your plans?"
"Buy a ship for Tassin to go back to her home world, which is restricted."
Tassin glanced around as the cyber wandered in, his hair spiked with moisture. Tarl watched him like a proud father watches his son take his first steps. Sabre ignored him and looked at Tassin, his expression shuttered.
"The bathroom's free."
She glanced down at her torn, filthy dress. "I wish I had my clothe
s. Any chance we could go to the city and fetch them?"
Tarl shook his head. "I'm not supposed to be on this planet, but I have some clothes that should fit you. I filched a few designer outfits from a shipment I made a while ago, thought they might come in handy to impress a lady friend."
"Thank you." She turned to Sabre. "You should get some rest, you must be tired. I know I am."
Sabre nodded, and Tarl's face fell, but he showed the trio to cramped, but comfortable cabins that had been repainted only a decade or so ago, each with a tiny washing alcove and a comfortable bunk that had clean sheets on it. After her shower, Tarl brought Tassin a smart black and grey outfit that comprised a pair of stretchy trousers and a rather low-cut, long-sleeved top. A pair of functional, flat-heeled shoes completed it, and she found a shimmering grey shawl that she could wrap around her hips.
****
Tassin woke refreshed and dressed in her new clothes before going to Sabre's cabin next door, finding him still asleep. Leaving him to rest, she made her way to the galley, where Kole and Tarl sat drinking coffee and making desultory conversation. Like the cabins, the galley, with its adjoining dining area, had been renovated at some point in the not too distant past, and boasted modern equipment, a fake marble counter top and a fairly new, but cheap chrome and plastic table and six chairs. The rubber flooring had been patched in the high traffic areas where the corridors were worn to metal, and there was even a bunch of dried flowers in a vase at one end of the counter. Tarl ordered another cup of coffee from the auto-chef for her, and a few minutes later Sabre entered, yawning.
Tassin smiled at him. "How are you feeling?"
He pulled a face, holding his injured arm. "It's not a good idea to lift slabs of stone with torn ligaments."
Tarl handed him a cup of coffee. "I can help with that."
"How?"
"I have supplies of all the drugs I used to use, and all the equipment. I duplicated them when I had Alpha."
"The crippled cyber," Tassin said.
"Yes."
"Well, good." Sabre sipped his coffee. "After breakfast, you can fix me."
His testy tone made Tassin cast Tarl an apologetic look. "I know you didn’t, but please don't talk about Sabre as if he's a piece of defective equipment. He’s a bit touchy about it."
Tarl asked, "That's one of your problems, isn't it, Sabre?"
"Knowing what I am isn't a problem."
"Thinking you are what you're not is."
"How am I wrong? I don't go to a doctor when I'm injured; I get fixed by a technician. Could you fix Tassin if she was hurt?"
Tarl shook his head. "She doesn't have the genetic enhancements that are designed to work with the drugs. Okay, you're different, and when the cyber controlled you, you were considered equipment. But you're not anymore."
"I'm still part machine."
"But now the dominant part is human."
"But nothing else has changed."
Tassin said, "Perhaps when you get your memories back, this will change."
"Why should it?"
"Because then you'll remember the year you spent with me, when you lived as a man, and were treated as one."
"It isn't just that year he needs to remember," Tarl said. "If he only remembers his formative years and training, he has no way of... knowing how to be a human. All he knows now is his combat training, and the only human contact he's had, apart from a few weeks with you, is the techs who trained him."
"They were a nice bunch," Sabre muttered.
Tassin frowned at Tarl. "You're sure you can restore all his memories?"
"Yes, I think I know how he lost them, but I'll have to examine him to make sure."
"It happened when the cyber shocked him, didn't it?"
"I doubt it." Tarl rose and went to the auto-chef panel in the wall, tapping instructions into the pad beside it. A minute later it chimed, and he opened the door to take out two bowls of steaming porridge. He placed them before Tassin and Sabre, then took out two more for himself and Kole. Tassin blew on a spoonful and tasted it, finding it sweet and creamy.
"Then how did it happen?"
"When I know for sure, I'll tell you."
After they finished the meal, Tarl put the bowls into an auto-washer and turned to Sabre. "Would you like to begin now?"
He shrugged. "Sure, why not? I'd like my elbow fixed first, if you don't mind."
"No problem."
They rose and followed Tarl into the white room with the couch, and he gestured to it. Sabre climbed onto it and stretched out, looking wary. Tarl went to a glass cabinet and took out a bottle and syringe, drawing some white fluid into it. He injected Sabre above the elbow, then pulled a wheeled trolley covered in strange devices and instruments from its place against the back wall and parked it beside the couch. Returning to the collection of paraphernalia at the back of the room, he moved a squat machine with a jointed arm on it over to the couch as well. That done, he sat in the swivelling chair and waited a few minutes before taking hold of the cyber's forearm and flexing the joint.
"Does it hurt now?"
"No."
"Good." Tarl pulled the squat machine closer on its multi-directional wheels to aim the flat, screen-like device on the end of its jointed arm at Sabre's elbow. Switching on an eye-level monitor in the machine's box-shaped base, he studied the picture that appeared on it, and Tassin moved closer to peer over his shoulder. It showed the bones of Sabre's elbow, each one lined with glowing barrinium plating.
Tarl grunted. "You must be a Wednesday's child. Your plating is perfect."
"Why does that make me a Wednesday's child?"
"Because Monday's operations are influenced by the parties the surgeons indulge in all weekend, and only by Wednesday are they at their peak performance. By Thursday they're tired, and they start making mistakes again."
Sabre snorted, and Tarl took hold of his forearm again, watching the image as he flexed it. "You've torn one anterior, one posterior ligament, and an associated tendon. This happened in a fight with another cyber?"
"That's right."
Tarl filled another syringe with blue fluid and injected Sabre's elbow, watching the needle on the screen. Tassin bit her lip as it probed deep into the joint, dark fluid oozing from it into the ligaments. Tarl drew the needle out and flexed the joint again, watching the image as the liquid seeped from the ligaments. He picked up a round metal instrument attached to an electric wire.
"You might feel a little buzz," he warned, placing the end of the instrument on Sabre's elbow.
Sabre's arm jerked as Tarl pressed the button, sending a jolt of electricity into the injured joint, and the cyber frowned.
"What are you doing?"
"Fixing your elbow."
"How?"
"I injected your torn ligaments with tryon forty-two, which reacts with your cells on a genetic level, speeding up their healing. The electricity quickens the process, rejuvenating them."
"Wonderful." Sabre stared at the ceiling.
Tarl shocked Sabre's elbow four more times, examining the progress in the image until he was satisfied, although Tassin could see no change. Pushing the machine aside, he nodded.
"There. When the bruising fades, it will be as good as new." Tarl gazed down at him. "You're in a lamentable state, Sabre. Your energy reserves are severely depleted, and you're underweight." He glanced at Tassin. "You've been letting him eat ordinary food, haven't you?"
“What should he be eating?”
“Cyber rations. It’s specially formulated to maintain a cyber’s condition.”
She scowled. "That sounds degrading, almost as bad as dog food."
"You don't understand. Cyber hosts have an exceedingly high metabolism, and, when they fight, they move at speeds no normal man is capable of, which burns a huge amount of energy. Their cells are designed to release more energy faster than normal, without the acid that causes them to stiffen afterwards. They can lose up to five kilograms in an hour of sustained exe
rtion, and, although their digestion is enhanced to compensate, poor rations, like synthetic ship food, isn't enough to sustain them. Cyber rations may be unpalatable, but it's rich in the energy, vitamins and minerals he has to replace. By feeding him ordinary food, you've weakened him considerably."
"He's not a damned machine," she said.
"No, he's a genetically modified human being, and you've got to understand that he requires special food if he's going to perform the feats of strength, speed and stamina he's designed for. When he's doing nothing but sitting in front of the TV like a couch potato, he can eat normal food."
"I'm not eating that shit," Sabre said. "Have you ever tasted it?"
"Actually, I have, and yeah, it's nasty."
"Tastes like dog poo."
"If you want to keep fighting and running around carrying Tassin, you've got to eat it, or starve."
Tassin's brows shot up. "Starve?"
"Yes. Literally. Even if he eats four square meals a day."
"Okay."
Sabre glowered at her. "No."
"Either that, or he's got to eat normal high-energy food like meat, nuts and cheese. That will help, but it won't be enough, and I don't know where you'll find it."
"He'll eat cyber rations."
"Good." Tarl turned to smile down at Sabre. "Right, let's see if we can fix your memories now."
Sabre continued to frown at Tassin. "I'm not eating cyber rations."
"Yes you are."
"Who's going to make me?"
"I am."
"You and what army?"
She smiled. "Just me."
"Right."
"Just until we're safe."
He sighed, and the defiance seemed to drain out of him. "Fuel for the weapon."
"Stop that."
Tarl turned to the machine and removed the flat screen from the end of the flexible arm, replacing it with a U-shaped instrument, which he placed around Sabre's head, the ends over his ears.
"I'm going to scan your brain now, through the gaps in your skull plating around your ears," he explained. "It won't hurt."
Tarl switched on the machine, and a strange image appeared on the screen, which he studied. To Tassin it looked like a jumble of convoluted lines, but deep within it were three spikes of glowing barrinium tipped with spreading branches, like tiny trees. Tarl pointed at them.
The Cyber Chronicles IV - Cyborg Page 19