The Cyber Chronicles 08: Scorpion Lord

by T C Southwell

  "I want you to help him."

  Martis led the way back into the lounge, where he settled in front of the cyber again. "Sabre. You are a human being, flesh and blood. You have feelings, and these are good, but you must control them. All are acceptable, but not all should be acted on. Sometimes you have to suppress feelings like anger and the urge to take vengeance on those who hurt you. Your mind is powerful and your destiny is your own, be proud of what you are. There is no shame in your past; no reason to hate yourself. Your life is your own, to do with as you please. Your body has instincts; let them guide you. There's nothing wrong with your urges and feelings; let them guide you. Your flesh is you, your blood is you. Your heart is your guide, too."

  Martis sat back, glancing at Estrelle. "Open active response file: X487... Erase."

  Sabre tensed and frowned, gripping the arms of the chair. A wave of red lights swept across the brow band as it rebooted, then some turned green, others flashed.

  "Erasure... forbidden."

  "Override code, Myon Two, RDZ487. Erase, erase, erase."

  Sabre relaxed. "File erased."

  "Open active response file: P937... Erase."

  The cyber tensed again. "Erasure... forbidden."

  "Override code, Myon Two, RDZ937. Erase, erase, erase."

  Sabre slumped. "File erased."

  "Open active response file: Z250... Erase. Override code, Myon Two, RDZ250. Erase, erase, erase."

  Sabre grimaced. "File erased."

  "Open host definition file... J14. Append."

  "Code."

  "Myon Two: SFT14-89. Append."

  "Awaiting input."

  Martis leant forward. "Input: definition of host. Autonomous sentient being. Sensations experienced by host, acceptable. Host impulses: acceptable. Host emotions: acceptable. End input."

  "File appended."

  "Close host definition file J14."

  "File closed."

  Martis steepled his hands and licked his lips. "Open host response file, code: active alpha priority one."

  "Password."

  "Myon Two, AP..." Martis closed his eyes, concentrating. "Y, 77... 4."

  "File opened."

  "Edit; line 1247. Delete last three words. Input: host brain choice."

  "Line edited."

  "Save all files. Close all files."

  "Files closed."

  Martis leant back. "Sabre, you're a living creature, made of flesh and blood. You're not defined; you're not bound by the rules of a machine. You are a man. When I count to three, you will wake up, refreshed and relaxed. One, two, three."

  Sabre opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. Estrelle held her breath. The cyber's eyes drifted down and came to rest on Martis. "You changed something."

  The young tech nodded. "How do you feel?"

  "Confused. You deleted... three files. And appended one... And something else."

  "That one you'll never be able to see. It's core programming."

  "What did you do?"

  Martis clasped his hands. "The three files I erased were all active response files dealing with certain human interactions that are forbidden to a cyber. But that wouldn't have helped you without the core programming change I made. I also gave you a definition of the host, which you lacked."

  "I know what I am."

  "Yeah, but cyber programming defined the host as a biological weapon, forbidden to have impulses or emotions, or to experience pleasant sensations. The cyber can’t stop you having emotions or impulses, but you were in conflict with it. I’m not sure what that would feel like… maybe a presence in your mind, monitoring you? Trying to rub out your feelings? Like if you were angry, it probably made it worse by irritating you with its attempts to stop you being angry. It's not enough, on its own, but when the wall in your mind fails, you're going to need that subconscious definition."

  "I see."

  "Do you feel calmer now, or are you still angry? Do you still hate us?"

  The cyber frowned. "Not really. You're still Myon Two techs, but... I guess you can't help that."

  "What about this uniform?" Martis gestured to the white uniform he wore, with its red crest on the shoulder.

  "You should get new clothes; it's bloody ugly."

  Martis smiled. "Good."

  "Did you mess with my mind?"

  "Of course I messed with your mind, but everything I did was for your benefit."

  Sabre studied at him for a moment, then nodded. "Okay then. I still have to find a Net booth and contact Fairen."

  "My clothes are still damp," Estrelle said.

  "I'll get you some new ones." Sabre rose and donned his clothes, including the harness, then pulled the worker's uniform on over it. "You two stay here. I'll be back soon."

  "You don't have any money," Martis said.

  "I don't need it." Sabre headed for the door.

  After he left, Estrelle turned to Martis with raised brows. "He seems happier."

  "He'll feel happier for a while, but it's not going to be plain sailing. I meant what I said; don't bloody touch him."

  "You're just jealous."

  "Nope, that's not it. Two of the active response files I erased dealt with contact, but there's one I can't erase, because that would be very dangerous."

  Estrelle eyed him. "What does it do?"

  "It defines his response to a person he deems to be a possible or potential threat. Right now, his response is hostile, as you noticed, though not aggressive if no harm is done. It's designed to allow a cyber to penetrate a hostile area, like if one was used as an assassin, which they often are. They make excellent assassins. On their way to their target, they may well come into contact with enemy soldiers or cybers, some of whom might touch them, brush against them, put a hand on them to detain them at a checkpoint, that sort of thing.

  "In order to prevent a cyber in that situation from automatically killing every enemy who came into contact with him, or at least, trying to, this active response file allows harmless contact without a lethal response. If I erased it, and you stroked his cheek like you did earlier, you'd probably have a broken neck now, but at the same time it tells him that, when surrounded by enemies, the response to any pain or action deemed hostile is lethal. In his mind, we're the enemy, but he tolerates us, even helps us, which is why he's so confused about it.

  "His human brain is now at odds with his programming, because he's defining his enemies based on his experience, but his programming still dictates his response. It's complicated, and it's going to get worse. These uniforms don't help. He associates them with his enemies, who are Myon Two personnel, while his programming defines Myon Two personnel as non-targets. He's in conflict. If he was a simple programme, he'd be trapped in a forever loop, with no escape. You're an enemy, but he can't attack you, but you're an enemy, but he can't attack you... You see?"

  She frowned. "Poor guy. What would happen if you erased all his programming?"

  "He wouldn't know what to do. Literally. He'd become passive, and probably learn a few responses, but he's not a child anymore, his mind is fully formed. If I erased his programming, it would be like you losing all your memories. If I then asked you for a cup of tea, you wouldn't know what I was talking about. I'd have to explain what tea is, and how to make it, and that's assuming you still knew how to understand speech and speak, which I don't know if he would, because some of it's learnt and some is programmed."

  "But on the ship, he invited me to touch him, so he could keep me warm."

  "Yeah, the important difference being that he invited you. If he asks you to touch him, fine, go for it, but don't do it without his invitation or permission."

  Estrelle sank down in the chair Sabre had vacated. "And all that stuff you told him about flesh and instincts and urges?"

  "That was for his subconscious mind, which has never learnt about his body and some of its natural functions, because it was cut off from it. His programming defined it as a tool, and that's how he still thinks of it, to a cert
ain extent. Sure, he's aware that there's probably more to it, but he can't really allow himself to experience things his programming forbids him to do.

  "What I did was give him permission to explore the new sensations he's been experiencing, so there's no conflict with his programming that would cause him to over stress. At least, I hope it will work, but, like I said, I don't really know if it will, but it should help."

  "It was amazing. He seemed completely human until you started reprogramming him, then he became a machine."

  "That was the control unit. He’s an odd mixture. He has a human side, a machine side, and middle ground, which is where the cyber’s reference data guides him. When his brain-block fails, he’s going to have to learn to be almost completely human, or he’ll go nuts."

  “I hope it works,” she said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Estrelle went back into the bathroom to dry her hair while Martis watched an entertainment show on the vidscreen. By the time the door opened an hour later, she was sitting with Martis in the lounge, nibbling snacks he had ordered from room service and watching a rather raunchy funvid. Sabre entered, looking a bit plump. He opened his overalls and pulled out two pairs of trousers and two shirts, then some undergarments, dropping them on a chair. Estrelle went over and picked up a pair of trousers, inspecting them.

  "These are men's trousers."

  Sabre shrugged. "What's the difference?"

  "I'm a woman?"

  "You have two legs, same as a man."

  She sighed. "Never mind."

  Martis chuckled when she vanished into the bathroom with the new clothes, holding up the pair of undershorts from his pile. "You got her a pair of these?"

  "They all came from the same shelf."

  Martis chuckled again, then stripped off his uniform and pulled on the brown trousers. Sabre frowned at the tattoo on the tech's shoulder as Martis turned to face him. He covered the tattoo with his hand, and Sabre's eyes flicked up to his face.

  "It's okay to hate the emblem," Martis said, "but you don't have to hate the one who wears it."

  The cyber drew the knife from his harness and stepped closer. "How about I cut it off for you?"

  Martis retreated. "I'd rather you didn't. That would hurt."

  "Yeah, it would, huh? Like it hurt when they filleted me so they could reinforce my bones."

  "Probably not as much."

  Sabre snorted and put away the knife. "Hurry up and get dressed."

  Martis pulled on the buff shirt, which was two sizes too large, and tucked it into the trousers. "You enjoy intimidating me, don't you?"

  "I like that you're afraid, although it insults me."

  "That's a bit confusing."

  "You should be afraid, given what I am, but the fact that you are means you think I'm a killer."

  "Ah." Martis shook his head. "I know you're a killer, but I also know you don't want to kill me."

  "Then why are you scared?"

  "Because just because you don't want to doesn't mean you won't."

  "Hmm."

  Estrelle emerged from the bathroom, dowdy in the plain shirt and trousers. "Are you two having another pissing contest?"

  "Just pushing buttons," Martis said.

  "Testing, testing," Sabre muttered.

  "Don't push the wrong button, Martis," she warned.

  "Yeah," Sabre agreed, "there's one that goes 'boom'."

  "Which one is that?"

  "The one marked 'do not push'."

  Martis smiled. "I guess I haven't found that one yet."

  "No, because if you did, you'd push it, wouldn't you?"

  "Probably."

  Sabre swung away and headed for the door. "Let's find a Net booth before the two of you drive me nuts."

  Chapter Nine

  Tarl scowled at the towering metal spire as workmen bolted the last strips into place high above, his heart heavy. The thing looked like something out of a bad vintage vidimage, not a high gain antenna. The chances of it working were slim to none, in his opinion. The same could be said of the transmitter he had patched together from Sabre's monitoring equipment. Tassin had hired a number of artisans from the nearest village to help him, who had some skill with metal working and carpentry, but, even so, it looked something a child might have built. It stood in a field not far from the castle, where he and Tassin could supervise its construction. He looked around as she came to his side and stared up at the metal monstrosity.

  "This is less powerful than the bracelet?"

  "Much. Size isn't everything."

  "Will it work?"

  "Maybe. Did you find a new mage?"

  She nodded. "One is arriving in a couple of days, who's reputed to be able to lift objects with his magic. It will cost a great deal if he succeeds, and he has to travel from Olgara."

  "Four more days," Tarl muttered. "That poor sod."

  "Sabre?"

  "Yeah. Something's got to work. Next I'll be trying to build a bloody ship."

  She glanced at him. "Could you?"

  "No bloody way."

  "We can't give up."

  "There's nothing left to try if this doesn't work and your mage fails. Unless I try to dive into that pit."

  "It's far too deep." Tassin looked pensive. "There are old cities, on the far side of the Badlands, that still have ancient technology from the founders. Perhaps there's a transmitter in one of them?"

  "Did you ever see anything that might have been a transmitter?"

  "I wouldn't know. I remember there was a building full of weapons, where Sabre got the light guns and cannons; would that have transmitters?"

  "It might. Sounds like a weapons' shop, or a military storage facility."

  "Then if this fails, we will travel there and see."

  Tarl nodded, watching the workmen climb down, their tasks complete. When they were all on the ground, he switched on the power to the ramshackle console resting on a wooden box. The neosin compiler that had powered Sabre's monitoring equipment came to life, flashing green lights. He twisted the tuning knob to select the universal distress frequency and leant down to speak into the tiny microphone that had provided the oral interface with the monitoring equipment.

  "This is Omega Five, calling all ships. We require assistance. This is Omega Five, calling all ships. We require assistance. Please respond."

  The speaker hissed, and Tassin chewed her lip. Tarl repeated the message after several minutes, and they listened to the static. He sent the message three more times before he switched off the equipment.

  Tassin asked, "What now?"

  "Now we wait and see if someone comes. I'll try again tomorrow. I'm transmitting on a narrow beam, so it'll be sheer luck if we actually contact a ship."

  "Our luck is due for a change."

  "You'd think so."

  ****

  Sabre entered the Net booth and slid the door closed, shutting Estrelle and Martis out. Pulling off the silk that covered the brow band, he aimed it at the Net interface and activated it. Lines of writing scrolled up the screen as the control unit circumvented the user interface and communicated directly in machine code, as it was designed to do. The Net portal accepted the cyber's request for an intergalactic connection, initiating the protocols with a satellite. Sabre requested the Overlord frequency, and two flashing red words appeared halfway up the screen, which froze.

  ‘Access denied’.

  Sabre cursed and tried to break the codes with the cyber, which caused flashing amber warnings to appear.

  ‘Warning, unauthorised override attempted. Warning, access codes invalid. Warning, access forbidden’.

  It went dead as the booth shut down.

  "Shit!" Sabre opened the door and stepped out, and Estrelle and Martis turned to him. "No good," he said. "Someone's shut down access to the Overlord frequency."

  "Myon Two?" Martis asked.

  "Probably. Guess you didn't cover your tracks as well as you thought. They're probably on their way here right now." />
  "What are you going to do?"

  Sabre looked around with a frown. "We have to get off this planet, but we can't use the drone ship and we don't have any money. I could hack into the local ticket vendor and get tickets on a liner, but that will leave a trail any fool could follow. They'd catch us before we reached our destination. Maybe I can get a message to someone I know, who might help. I have to find another booth, though."

  The cyber set off towards a crowded street filled with flashing neon signs and screens showing suggestive vidimages. Music blared from public speakers and revellers danced with erotic abandon, many of them naked. Martis followed, puzzled by Sabre's choice of direction, since cybers disliked crowds, then spotted the empty Net booth ahead. Sabre seemed oblivious to the carnival atmosphere or the people who cavorted around him, making directly for the booth. Martis was jostled and stroked, even kissed by passing revellers. Estrelle had to fight free of groping hands, which she did with yelps of indignation.

  A big woman with braided hair and feline features stepped in front of Sabre, a net body stocking revealing her statuesque figure. Huge earrings framed her cheeks, and bangles clinked on her arms as she tried to slip her arms around his neck, purring. Sabre evaded her, leaving her clutching air, and she tottered on ten-centimetre heels, looking startled. Martis tried to avoid her too, but she latched onto him and licked his cheek. When he fended her off, his hands encountered embarrassing regions of her soft anatomy. She giggled, pressing closer.

  A resounding slap on her rear end made the woman jerk in surprise, and she swung around.

  Estrelle glared at her. "Hands off."

  The woman tottered away, rubbing the red mark on her behind.

  Martis smiled at Estrelle. "Thanks."

  "You weren't trying too hard to avoid her."

  "I was! She..."

  Estrelle marched away, and he hurried after her. A man swooped past on a pair of hover boots, scooped Estrelle up and shot away into the crowd. Martis gave chase as she was tossed, flailing and yelling, into the air and caught with well-practised ease. He soon realised he stood no chance of catching her abductor on foot. With a groan, he turned and raced after Sabre.