The Cyber Chronicles VIII - Scorpion Lord

by T C Southwell

  "Well this sure looks like a dump."

  The other man sniggered. "A real shithole, Borg."

  Tassin drew herself up. "I am Queen Tassin Alrade, and I will pay well for your assistance."

  The taller man, Borg, smirked at her. "Well now, yer a pretty lass, aintcha? So what help do ye need?"

  "I need to send a message to -"

  Tarl elbowed her. "An intergalactic message. We don't have a strong enough transmitter."

  "Too right ye don't." Borg guffawed. "What we picked up were little mor'n space static with attitude."

  The shorter man chortled. "Space static wiff attitude, I like that un, Borg."

  "'Course ye do; yer a moron."

  "We just need to send a message," Tassin said. "It will only take a few minutes, and we will pay."

  "Watcha got?"

  "Gold? Jewels? What do you want?"

  Borg waved a hand. "Worthless junk. Got anything good? Barrinium mebbe, or samerite? Corrin crystals? Remelin?"

  Tarl shook his head. "No, we don't, but we can get whatever you want after you send the message. Name your price."

  "Har, name our price eh? Sounds good, don't it Shren?"

  "Sure does. We could use a few tonnes of samerite."

  "So you'll let us send a message?" Tassin asked.

  Borg leered. "Sure thing lil lady, but o' course, the transmitter's up there." He jerked his thumb at the sky.

  Tassin glanced at Tarl, who nodded and said, "If you'll take me up, I'll send the message and arrange your payment."

  Borg's brows rose. "Nah, nah, nah, I don't fink so, busta. The lil lady wants ta send the message. She's the one what's comin with us, not you."

  "No, she's not. I'll come," Tarl insisted.

  Borg looked at Shren. "Seems like this bloke don't hear too good."

  "Mebbe a good ear cleanin wiff a laser would 'elp?"

  "Reckon it might, at that." Borg leant forward and bellowed, "The lil lady comes, or no one comes, got it?"

  Tassin said, "I'll come, but he comes with me."

  Borg shrugged, smiling. "Okey dokey."

  Tarl gripped her arm, saying to the men, "Give us a minute, please."

  Borg sighed and folded his arms, glancing at a timepiece on his wrist. "Tick tock."

  Tarl tugged her out of earshot and muttered, "These guys are dangerous. They're smugglers or slavers. It's not safe for you to go with them."

  "What choice do we have? You heard him. I'll risk it to get Sabre back; you know that."

  "Oh and he'll be so happy when you're abducted, won't he?"

  "Once I speak to Fairen, how far do you think they'll get, even if they try to abduct me?"

  Tarl shook his head. "It's too dangerous. Sabre will kill me if anything happens to you."

  "If we don't do this, we may never get him back."

  "We'll keep sending the message; another ship will come."

  "Maybe not. You heard him. This may be our only chance."

  Tarl shook his head again. "It's too dangerous!"

  Tassin jerked her arm from his grip. "It's not your decision."

  Borg bellowed, "Tick bloody tock over there!"

  Tassin swung away and strode towards the shuttle.

  Tarl hurried after her. "This is madness! You're putting yourself in terrible danger."

  She waved a hand at him. "You don't have to come if you're scared. I'll go alone."

  "Don't be bloody ridiculous!"

  Borg unfolded his arms and leered when Tassin stopped in front of him. "So what's it to be, lil lady?"

  "I'm coming with you."

  "So am I," Tarl said.

  "Fine," Borg said, "the more the merrier, hey Shren?"

  "We'll 'ave a party, Borg."

  The men walked up the ramp, and Tassin paused to glance back at her soldiers. "I should be back shortly. If I am not, return to the castle and have a man wait for me here, with two horses, at all times."

  "Yes, Majesty." Her general bowed.

  Tassin followed the spacers into the ship, Tarl at her side. Borg gestured to a couple of spare seats, and Tarl strapped her into one. The inside of the shuttle was surprisingly clean and modern; it even had a sharp plastic smell, at odds with its crew's shabby apparel. Borg and Shren settled into the pilot’s seats, and the craft drifted into the sky.

  About fifteen minutes later, the shuttle approached a spikey black photon ship that hung in orbit, bristling with laser cannons, ramming spears, cranes and what looked like grappling hooks. Tarl studied it with a sinking heart, his worst fears confirmed.

  "These guys are pirates," he whispered to Tassin.

  "We just need to send the message," she muttered.

  "We can't trust them. This was a mistake."

  "Why would they bring us up here if they don't plan to let us send the message? They'll do it for the reward we offered, and Fairen will pay them, I'm sure."

  "Fairen will blow them out of existence."

  Tassin shrugged. "That's his choice."

  The shuttle docked with a clunk and the two pirates unbuckled their belts and rose as the door slid open. Borg gestured to it. Tarl unstrapped Tassin, and they preceded Borg and Shren aboard the photon ship, which appeared to be brand new, like the shuttle. The pale walls and ceiling gave off a subtle light, as did the floor. They were escorted into a bright room filled with several well-built, shabbily dressed men and lined with myriad sparkling consoles. A man with a bulging mid-section swung to face them on a swivelling chair, a ratty beard partially concealing his broad features.

  Borg stood aside, grinning. "See wot we got, Captain."

  The fat man smirked, his small brown eyes raking the Queen. "Very nice."

  "O'course, they wanna send a message." Borg coughed.

  "Right." The captain beamed. "No problem."

  Borg indicated a glinting console. "There ye go, lil lady."

  Tarl went over to the console, heartened to find that it was indeed a com-station. Tuning the frequency to the Overlord sideband, he beckoned to Tassin, picked up the tiny microphone and handed it to her. She raised it to her lips, and he activated the com-station, noticing, as he did so, a crewman tapping his console. Tarl studied the com-station while Tassin spoke, trying to figure out what all the flashing lights meant. It was an unfamiliar board, and he cursed the fact that, unlike Sabre, he did not know how to use every known com-station in the universe.

  Tassin finished her message and handed back the microphone. The captain glanced at Borg, then smirked at Tassin.

  "Well, well. Overlord Fairen, eh? So yer a planetary leader, hey? Most impressive, young Miss."

  Tassin smiled. "He's a personal friend. Thank you for allowing me to use your transmitter. You will be rewarded when Overlord Fairen gets here."

  "And he's coming, is he?"

  "Oh yes, he will come."

  "Well, ain't that summing, eh, boys? Havin an Overlord at yer beck 'n call. Must be right nice."

  Borg sniggered, and some of the other men laughed.

  Tarl eyed the captain. "Well then, we just need a lift back to the surface."

  "Har, ye do, dontcha?" Borg leered.

  "Yeah," Tarl said.

  "Well now, ye could always wait here for yer Overlord to come, couldn't ye?"

  Tassin sank down on the plush contoured chair that faced the coms console, overwhelmed with relief that the message had finally been sent. "We could," she agreed.

  "No," Tarl said, casting her a pleading look. "We have to get back."

  The captain snorted and swung to face the main screens, where Omega Five hung like a sun-gilded blue and white jewel. "Agh, enough o' this shyte, Borg. Take em away, let's get back on course."

  Borg drew his laser and waved it at Tarl. "You 'eard the captain. Let's go."

  Tarl groaned, "I knew it."

  "They're abducting us?" Tassin asked.

  "Yeah, they are."

  "Fairen will find us."

  Tarl shook his head. "I somehow don't think
your message was sent. They just wanted to know who you wanted to contact."

  Borg stepped closer, aiming his laser at Tarl. "Get a move on."

  Tassin raised her chin. "How dare -?"

  "Leave it." Tarl gripped her elbow and urged her off the bridge, following Shren into the glowing passageway. They walked along it for some distance, then descended in a lift and emerged into another luminous corridor. Shren led them to a row of doors and tapped a code into the pad beside the closest. It slid open to reveal a three-metre-square room with black carpeting, a tiny toilet cubicle in one corner. Tarl followed Tassin inside when Borg prodded him in the back with his laser. Three young girls in ragged dresses huddled against the far wall, gazing at them with wide, scared eyes. Tarl guided Tassin to a corner, where they sank down on the floor. Borg smirked as the door closed.

  Tarl turned to the Queen. "Well, now we're really in the shit."

  "What do they want with us? Why would they abduct us rather than wait for the reward I offered?"

  Tarl nodded at the girls. "They're pirates, and slavers. Those are their cargo, or part of it, at least. They just added another pretty girl to their stash. I'm just excess baggage. You're the prize, that's why they insisted on you coming."

  "That's despicable! How can such modern, advanced people act like barbarians?"

  "Those guys aren't advanced, they're Neanderthals. This is a modern ship, yeah, but they probably stole it. They're scum, no better than the bandits on Omega Five. We just walked right into their trap."

  "What are they going to do with us?"

  He sighed. "Well, I don't know about me. They let me come because I insisted, but I'm worthless to them unless I can convince them I have skills worth selling."

  "And me?"

  He grimaced. "They'll sell you."

  "And you'll let them?"

  "Ah, Tassin, I'm not a bloody cyber, okay? I don't have a weapon and even if I did... I can't stop them."

  She frowned at the far wall. "I will not be a slave."

  "You don't exactly have a choice."

  "I will fight!"

  "Yeah, you're the warrior bloody queen, right?" Tarl snorted. "No wonder Sabre found you so difficult to deal with."

  "He did not!"

  "Listen to me; if you fight these guys, you'll just get beaten up. They don't care who you are; to them, you're just merchandise. If you're too much trouble... Well they have ways of dealing with obstinate females."

  "What ways?" she demanded.

  "I'd rather not say."

  "Well I'd rather you did!"

  He groaned and rubbed his brow. "Think about it. There's many ways to break a woman's spirit. Take away her pride and self-confidence, for one. They'll teach you to do as they tell you, one way or another. And if all else fails, they'll mind-wipe you."

  "Mind... wipe?"

  "Yeah. Wipe out all your memories."

  Tassin shook her head. "They can't!"

  "They bloody well can. Listen to me; the best thing is to just do as they tell you, and look for an opportunity to escape. As long as you co-operate, they won't hurt you."

  "Never! I -"

  "For once in your life be sensible! You can't fight them any more than I can! Just... stay safe, wait for an opportunity."

  She lowered her eyes to her twisting hands. "If Sabre was here -"

  "But he isn't! And he's not coming! We're going to have to figure out how to get out of this ourselves. And hide that, if you want to keep it." He nodded at her engagement ring.

  Tassin bit her lip and nodded, removed the ring and put it in her pocket. Tarl placed a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  ****

  The cyber's flashing red warning light woke Sabre, and he opened his eyes. Estrelle approached the bed, carrying a cup. He sat up, wincing. She settled beside him and put the cup on the side table, offering him two painkillers. He swallowed them and sipped the protein shake.

  "How do you feel?" she enquired.

  "Like I've just been trampled flat by a herd of mad elephants."

  "You look awful."

  "Thanks; just what I need to hear."

  "Your poor face," she said. "It's badly swollen."

  "You should see the other guy."

  "You killed him, Martis said."

  "I didn't have much of a choice."

  She nodded. "It was probably a mercy."

  "Not the way he died. It was... cruel."

  "There was no other way."

  "Yeah. His bastard owner could have stopped him any time."

  "Strange that he didn’t, when a cyber is so valuable," she remarked.

  "Some of those guys have so much money they don't care. A million credits is peanuts to them. I think that crowd paid to see a fight to the death, so they had to get it. People like that don't settle for anything less than what they paid for. Thing is, I'm the one who was supposed to die."

  "I'm glad you didn't."

  He nodded. "Me too."

  "No, I mean it, don't be flip. You're a fascinating man. Complicated, and yet... gentle. A strange mixture."

  "Now you're going to psychoanalyse me?"

  "I just want to understand you."

  He snorted. "I'd like to do that myself."

  "You will one day, I'm sure, and I'd like to help you."

  "How?"

  "I could explain things that confuse you."

  Sabre frowned at the thick green sludge in the cup. "What has the cyber turned me into?"

  "I don’t think it’s turned you into anything. It still influences you, sure, but you’ve developed some powerful emotions. How long have you been free?"

  "In total, about eighteen months. But I lost all my memories of the first year when I was taken back to Myon Two. I only regained them about six months ago, thanks to Tarl. He’s an ex-repair tech. He’s become my friend, of sorts. I didn’t like him at first, but he’s grown on me. Now I can shove him around a bit, and I even hugged him once."

  Estrelle giggled. "That's alpha male dominance, a form of friendly bullying to reinforce your supremacy over a lesser male. You're doing it to Martis too, though not in a friendly way, but every time he gets a bit too pushy, you put him in his place, don't you?"

  "I guess so, when he pisses me off."

  "That's a basic instinct, which perhaps wasn't locked away behind the mind block since it wouldn't interfere with the cyber's fighting abilities. But you have to be careful not to become arrogant."

  "I’m not the arrogant sort, and Cybercorp has done a good job of teaching me how easily I can be beaten. Not that I ever thought I was invincible. If not for you and Martis..."

  "I'm glad we saved you, and I know he is too. But we're both a bit scared of you. Should we be?"

  He smiled, raising his eyes to meet hers. "No. But don't tell Martis, okay?"

  She giggled again, taking the empty cup from him. "Sure. But now I can laugh the next time you dangle him out of the window by his big toe. You should rest now, get some more sleep."

  Chapter Thirteen

  The cyber's warning light woke Sabre again twelve hours later, and he opened his eyes to find Martis fidgeting in the doorway. Sabre levered himself up against the pillows with a groan, and the young tech came closer. A flashy purple suit with a glittering collar and cuffs clad his narrow frame, and he looked, Sabre thought, more like a pimp than anything else now. He seemed well pleased with himself, and when Estrelle came in a moment later, Sabre's brows rose. A sleek, thigh-length dress of sparkling crimson material clung to her curves, which were quite generous when the shapeless tech uniform did not disguise them. Fake jewellery winked on her neck and wrists, her hair was styled into a lavish fall of curls, and makeup enhanced her features.

  Sabre eyed them. "Well, well, it's a pimp and his favourite hooker."

  "What do you mean?” Martis asked. “We look great."

  "I'm glad you think so. You've certainly been having fun spending my money, haven't you?"

  "Your money?"

/>   "Yeah, my money. You know, that I got my head bashed in for?"

  "I arranged it all," he protested.

  "Mmm, something for which you still have to pay, when I'm feeling a bit better."

  "Now hang on a minute, I didn't know what was going to happen. I said I was sorry."

  "You'll be a lot sorrier when I'm finished with you."

  Estrelle giggled, approaching to hand Sabre a cup. "Hang him out of the window by his big toe?"

  He took the drink and sipped it. "That might not be enough. Maybe his little toe, it'll hurt more."

  She sat on the bed beside him, smoothing the dress over her thighs. "But you like my dress, don't you?"

  "You certainly blend in with the locals now."

  Martis chuckled, and Sabre shot him a measuring look. "As do you."

  "We got you some new clothes too," Estrelle said.

  "Oh... god, no."

  Martis grinned and went back into the lounge, returning a moment later with a packet. He drew out a silver-studded black leather jacket, matching silk shirt and trousers, laying them out on the bed.

  Estrelle stroked the shirt. "I think they're lovely."

  "You would."

  "You'll see, when you put them on. They'll suit you."

  Sabre shook his head. "I think even my dead body would object to wearing those."

  "Oh come on, they're smart."

  "For a pimp, maybe."

  "You can't keep wearing those cyber issue clothes; you stick out like a sore thumb," she said.

  "Only because everyone else on this planet is dressed like a pimp, a prostitute or a pervert."

  "Martis will wear them, then."

  "Good, because I'm not going to." He sipped the protein shake, frowning. "It's been over sixteen hours since I sent the message, and no one's come. Something's wrong."

  Martis consulted the flashy gold timepiece on his wrist. "Yeah, it's been a while. What's your bio-status now?"

  "Why, do you have another fight lined up for me?"

  "No, although I'm sure I could arrange something."

  "I'll just bet you could." Sabre put down the shake and swung his legs off the bed, wincing.