The Cyber Chronicles 08: Scorpion Lord

by T C Southwell

  Fairen rose and stepped down from the dais, walking towards Kole, who backed away when he got too close. Several armed men emerged from the shadows around the walls, their dart guns aimed at Kole. Fairen stopped and gestured, making the men retreat, then faced Kole.

  "I have saved twenty-two worlds from destruction, and destroyed seven."

  Kole gaped at him. Fairen turned and exited through the side door. Sabre freed himself from Estrelle and wandered over to the hacker.

  "Still think Overlords are planet-killing scum?"

  "I never said -"

  "Yeah, you did. Your exact words were, 'I don't like anyone who goes around blowing up planets'."

  "I didn't call them scum."

  Sabre smiled. "Don't worry, he can't hear you. But, as you just saw, they save worlds too. More than they destroy. Oh, and your ship is being repaired, refuelled, and overhauled. You should show some appreciation, like the Thaytan commander. Now that was a man with class."

  Kole opened his mouth to reply, but Sabre swung away and stalked after Fairen.

  The boy glanced up from the sofa when Sabre entered his private lounge, looking exhausted, his hair tousled. The cyber sat beside him, eyeing him.

  "You need to get some sleep."

  Fairen yawned. "I still have to deal with Myon Two."

  "They can wait. We have eight hours before the enforcer ships get there. You need to rest, you're not indestructible."

  Fairen sighed, gazing at Sabre with watering eyes. "If I rest, some other emergency will come up."

  "Then let someone else deal with it. You're going to get some sleep."

  The boy chuckled. "Now you're telling me what to do?"

  "Yeah, that's what friends are for."

  The young Overlord looked away, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "I get so tired sometimes..."

  "We all do. I could use some sleep too."

  Fairen's eyes drooped, and Sabre gave a grunt of irritation. Rising, he scooped up the boy and tossed him over his shoulder.

  "Where do you sleep?"

  "Hey, put me down!"

  "Nope. You're going to sleep, if I have to knock you out."

  Fairen giggled. "Through the other door."

  The cyber walked towards the door to his right, then froze as dozens of armed men stepped from hidden recesses, dart guns aimed at him.

  "Release Overlord Fairen," one ordered.

  Sabre bent and lowered Fairen onto his feet, and the boy swung around, his brows drawing together. "Get out!" he bellowed.

  "My Lord -"

  "Out! Now!" Fairen strode towards the nearest man, who fell to his knees and bowed his head. Fairen kicked him, making him grunt and drop flat on the floor. The rest of the soldiers put away their guns and headed for the door. Fairen marched over to the closest shelf, picked up a priceless crystal ornament and hurled it at them. It smashed on the wall beside the door the soldiers vanished through, and the one on the floor jumped up and fled after them. Sabre grabbed Fairen when he picked up another article to throw, and the door slid shut behind the men.

  "Okay, take it easy." He eased the ancient porcelain figurine from Fairen's grip. "They're gone."

  "They won't leave me alone! Always they're here, watching me! Sneaking around, listening in! I'm sick of it!"

  "They're just protecting you."

  "I'm tired of being the centre of this bloody universe, everyone fawning and bowing, scraping and crawling! I want to be left alone!" His face twisted. "And yet I am alone. All these people serving me, and no one to talk to, not one!"

  "I know, but I'm here now, and you're going to go to bed and get some sleep, right now. You're tired, that's why you're throwing a tantrum."

  "Don't treat me like a child!"

  "But you are a child, Fairen. Emrin. You can try throwing things at me, but it won't do you any good. Bed, now."

  Sabre hoisted the boy over his shoulder again and headed for the door Fairen had indicated earlier. It slid open to reveal a velvet-hung bedchamber with a satin-covered bed at its centre. Screens in the black walls gave views of space around the ship, a few containing images of Thayta and its moons. Sabre tossed the boy on the bed, pinned him down and tugged off his jacket, then released him and retreated as Fairen sat up, glaring.

  "Are you going to do the rest yourself, or do I have to hold you down until you go to sleep?" Sabre asked.

  Fairen flopped back, frowning at the ceiling. "You took a big risk, you know. They could have shot you."

  "Well, it's debateable that their poison would work on me."

  "It would, it's mirrithyde."

  Sabre sat on the edge of the bed. "Hmmm. Four hours of coma for a cyber before death. You could have given me the antidote."

  "Really? You can survive for four hours?"

  "Yeah. Myon Two couldn't completely immunise us, but it's not instant like it would be for a man."

  "Good. I wouldn't want to have to slaughter all my men for killing you."

  "I would think not." Sabre glanced around as the lights dimmed, his brows rising. "Does Scorpio read minds?"

  Fairen smiled. "No, she just anticipates, sometimes."

  "Good for her. What would she do if you died?"

  "If I had no apprentice to take over immediately, she'd self-destruct." He yawned.

  "No wonder they want to protect you."

  "Ugh." He rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. "Sometimes I hate them."

  "Go to sleep." Sabre rose and let himself out.

  When he entered his suite, he found Kole and the two techs seated on the sofas in the lounge, apparently waiting for his return, since they were housed in the adjoining suite. Their excited conversation ceased when he strolled in. Sabre flopped down on a couch with a sigh.

  "Why haven't we translocated yet?" Kole asked. "Is something wrong?"

  "No. Fairen's getting some sleep." Sabre rubbed his brow. "The poor boy's exhausted."

  "Boy?"

  Sabre looked up. "I said guy. Poor guy."

  "No you didn't. You said boy."

  Estrelle gasped. "Emrin?"

  "No," Sabre shook his head. "Emrin's just a cook's son. I'm tired. It was a slip of the tongue."

  Martis nodded. "It's Emrin."

  Sabre smiled. "How could Emrin be an Overlord? Don't be ridiculous."

  Kole eyed him. "No wonder he wears a disguise."

  "Agh, you're all idiots." Sabre jumped up and headed for the bedroom. "I'm going to sleep."

  "We won't tell anyone."

  "Go ahead, it's not true."

  "No one would believe us anyway."

  "That's true."

  Sabre flung himself down on the bed. For a while he lay awake, thinking about the boy who commanded the most powerful ship ever built, and one of the most ancient. The lonely teenager longed for friendship, and had found a big brother, of sorts, in a broken killing machine whose emotionless mind made his touch bearable. Ironically, it was the very attributes Sabre hated about himself that appealed to Fairen; his inability to experience true emotions, and his skill as a fighter. What would happen, he wondered, if he ever gained the ability to feel as other people did? He did not think he would lose Fairen’s friendship, but he might not be able to give him the affection he craved, and needed.

  That would be sad, but he knew Fairen’s aversion was for people who were tainted by such base emotions as greed, jealousy, malice, and the lust for power, none of which he ever wanted to feel. Fairen’s friendship was precious to him, and they had quite a lot in common. They had both been forced into lives they did not want, and would always be different from the rest of humanity.

  Soon he would be back with Tassin, whom he missed more than ever. Martis’ reprogramming had eased his conflicts and given him fresh hope that he could become truly human. His natural reactions no longer seemed so alien, and the cold cogs and wheels of his machine-trained mind were less intrusive. His love for Tassin had grown stronger, and he longed to see her again.

  ****
/>   The Cyber Chronicles saga continues in Book IX, Precipice, and more as yet unwritten.

  About the author

  T. C. Southwell was born in Sri Lanka and her family moved to the Seychelles when she was a baby. She spent her formative years exploring the islands – mostly alone. Naturally, her imagination flourished and she developed a keen love of other worlds. The family travelled through Europe and Africa and, after the death of her father, settled in South Africa. T. C. Southwell has written over forty novels and five screenplays. Her hobbies include motorcycling, horse riding and art, and she earns a living in the IT industry.

  All illustrations and cover designs by the author.

  Contact the author at demonlord07@hotmail.com

  Acknowledgements

  Mike Baum and Janet Longman, former employers, for their support, encouragement, and help. My mother, without whose financial support I could not have dedicated myself to writing for ten years. Isabel Cooke, former agent, whose encouragement and enthusiasm led to many more books being written, including this one. Suzanne Stephan, former agent, who has helped me so much over the past six years, and Vanessa Finaughty, good friend and business partner, for her support, encouragement and editing skills.