The Cyber Chronicles 06: Warrior Breed

by T C Southwell

  "You could do it so easily."

  "You mean like punching a hole in the wall next to Tarl's head?"

  "Yes, but he wasn't scared. He knows you too well, as do I. But Tisha doesn't."

  Sabre spread his hands and gazed at the faint scars on the backs of them. The cuts on his knuckles had almost healed, leaving pink marks. "The idea isn't very appealing, but I suppose there’s no harm in it."

  "So you'll do it?"

  He raised his eyes to meet hers. "Okay." She reached for his hand, but he left the bed in a bound and said, "I have to get some sleep now."

  "Of course." Tassin rose, avoiding his eyes.

  Sabre knew he had just hurt her badly, and watched her leave with deep regret, but could not bring himself to call her back and apologise, even though he wanted to. His ability to deal with their relationship had taken a severe blow, and things had to return to the way they had been weeks ago, for a while, at least. As she closed the door between their adjoining rooms, he wondered how long it would take him to get over the damage Tisha had done, and cursed the Trykon woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  A hush fell when Sabre entered the bridge after eight hours of sleep. Tassin still rested in her rooms; a glance at the scanners had assured him of that. Atrel turned to him and nodded. Trykons had no form of salute or terms of respect, which their obedience implied. Sabre admired many aspects of Trykon culture, especially their deep and unshakeable sense of honour. Their ways were harsh, but fair. The men at the consoles resumed their work, and Atrel ordered the pilot to return the ship to the battle.

  Sabre shook his head. "Not yet. There's a matter that needs to be resolved first. Atrel, bring Tisha and Diarda to the conference room, and some witnesses."

  Atrel's expression stiffened, but he nodded and swung away.

  When Sabre arrived in the conference room a few minutes later, Atrel waited there with Second Lieutenant Rodar, Third Lieutenant Viorn and the women. Tisha looked nervous and Diarda defiant. All eyes followed Sabre as he wandered around the long metal table and eight chairs in the centre of the room, the tension acute. Like the rest of the ship, the conference room, intended for officers’ battle strategy meetings, had grey-panelled walls with a few battered axes, shields and swords mounted on them, presumably trophies from previous victories. Its floor was scuffed black plasfoam, commonly used on ships due to its durability and the good traction it offered. It was used throughout the Trykon warship. He stopped at the head of the table and turned to face them.

  "For drugging her commander, Tisha will receive the standard punishment of twenty lashes."

  Atrel nodded, and Tisha bowed her head. As Sabre had hoped, Diarda stepped forward.

  "I should share her punishment. I ordered her to do it."

  "Why?"

  "You need a spouse. I was trying to help."

  "Right. Even though it cost you your command, my happiness meant that much to you."

  She shook her head. "I care nothing for your happiness. I was concerned for the ship. Without a woman, a man becomes frustrated, prone to fits of rage and rash decisions."

  "Rubbish."

  She raised her chin. "A commander needs a spouse to help make his decisions, to provide a second opinion and keep him informed of the crew’s morale. Commanders always have a spouse."

  "Very well, since it's a tradition, I will take Tisha as my spouse, once she's had her punishment of ten lashes, and you the other ten."

  Tisha slumped with relief, and Diarda nodded. Atrel stepped forward and held out a short, evil-looking whip.

  Sabre raised his brows in surprise. "I have to do it myself?"

  "That's usually the case. The aggrieved party metes out the punishment."

  "How poetic." Sabre paused, discomfited by this unexpected turn of events. He had no wish to beat a woman. The idea revolted him. If not for Tassin's request, he would not have bothered with any punishment. Tisha approached him and turned her back, then stripped off her armour and blouse, holding her clothes over her breasts. Sabre noted several lash scars on her skin, and his revulsion increased.

  Shaking his head, he turned away. "Atrel, you do it."

  "She was my spouse once. I'd rather not."

  "Then choose someone else."

  Atrel beckoned to Rodar, who grimaced and approached, taking the whip. The ten blows he delivered raised ugly welts, and Tisha bore it in silence. Sabre forced himself to watch without expression, fighting the urge to stop it. Tisha left, pulling her blouse on, and Diarda's turn came. Again the ten blows raised red welts on her unscarred back, and she bore it stoically. Sabre wondered if Tassin's plan would work, considering how well Trykon women handled pain. After Diarda left, he led the officers back to the bridge, where the crew waited to rejoin the battle.

  Sabre glance up as the door chimed and set his glass of fruit juice down on the lounge table. The ship, which he had learnt was called Nemesis, had quit the conflict after five hours, and he had spent half an hour relaxing with Tassin in his quarters since then. His headache had abated somewhat, so he had sent a message to Tisha, ordering her to join him. He pressed the button on the bulkhead beside him that opened the door, and she entered, clad in a flowing, pale green velvet gown and darker green corset, her mahogany hair swept up in an attractive style that framed her face with cascades of curls. She looked a little nervous, and peeved when she spotted Tassin sitting next to him on the couch.

  Sabre gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the chrome and glass table. "Sit."

  She obeyed, shooting Tassin a frown, but the Queen merely raised her brows and sipped her juice.

  "How is Diarda taking her demotion?" he enquired.

  Tisha shrugged. "She accepts it."

  "And how are you enjoying your promotion?"

  "I accept it."

  "How is the morale of the crew?"

  "Well enough."

  Sabre picked up his glass. "Good. Enough chit chat, then. Tell me what Diarda has planned for me."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "Sure you do. You don't think I believe that crap about wanting you to be my spouse for the sake of the ship and its crew, do you? What did she want you to do? Drug me so the two of you could stuff me down a disposal chute? No, you did that, but you didn't get rid of me. What happened? A sudden attack of conscience? Atrel smelt a rat? You didn't think you could get away with it? So tell me, what was the real plan?"

  "There was no plan. I wanted to be your spouse."

  Sabre smiled. "You're lying. One of the handy things that this does..." He tapped the brow band. "...Is to be a very accurate lie detector. When you lie, your heart speeds up, your blood pressure rises, and your respiration becomes uneven. My bio scanners pick up all of that. Tell me the truth."

  "There was no plan."

  Sabre shook his head. "So it was something bad. Is it worth suffering for, I wonder? You were brave when you were punished, but I can do far worse than that to you."

  "You don't have the stomach."

  "Really. Why do you say that? Because I didn't beat you myself?"

  "And you turned pale when I was beaten."

  "Ah." He shrugged and sipped his drink. "It's true, I don't enjoy inflicting pain, or watching it being inflicted on others any more than I enjoy having it inflicted on me, but that doesn't mean I won't do it. If my life and that of my wards is under threat, I'll do what I must to protect them, and myself."

  Tisha glanced at Tassin. "Leave us."

  Tassin opened her mouth, but Sabre was faster. "She stays if she wishes."

  "I want her to leave, and I'm commander of the women, therefore, she must go."

  "I'm commander of the ship, and I say she stays."

  Tisha's eyes glinted. "You insult me."

  "I don't care, and don't change the bloody subject. What did Diarda order you to do to me?"

  "Nothing."

  "So, you want to do this the hard way." Sabre put down his drink and leant forward to pick up the fist-
sized chunk of pink crystal Tassin had brought for his demonstration to frighten Tisha. It was part of an old power core, and extremely hard, so much so that he wondered if his little show would backfire. He hefted it. "Could a Trykon man crush this, do you think?"

  Tisha snorted. "No man could crush that."

  Sabre wondered if she might be right, and wished Tassin had found something a little less hard. Tarl had claimed that a cyber could crush rocks, however, and he suspected that she wanted to see him do it. He settled the crystal comfortably into his palm, turning it so that no jagged edges would cut his skin. The cyber flashed a warning in his mind, and a readout showed him the strength of the stone and the optimum crushing ability of a cyber, which was insufficient. According to the cyber's information, he would fail.

  Sabre almost put the crystal down, but the cyber's data was based on the abilities of an average A-grade host, so it might still be possible. The margin of insufficiency was small. Setting his fingers, he gripped the stone and squeezed. His knuckles whitened, and the tendons on the back of his hand stood out like bars under his skin, the thin scars becoming more prominent. The muscles in his forearm bulged, and his biceps strained at his sleeve. Tisha leant closer, her gaze intent, and Tassin bit her lip. The flesh of his fingers and palm flamed with pain as it was crushed, and cold sweat popped out on his brow. He strained with all his might, but his effort seemed doomed to failure, and he put one last bit of strength into it.

  The crystal burst, spraying dust and chunks, and his hand closed on the jagged remains, which sliced into his palm. Sabre cursed and dropped the pieces, shaking his hand.

  "Shit."

  Tisha gasped, her eyes wide, and Tassin looked stunned. Sabre jumped up and went into the washroom, where he held his burning hand under the tap and picked shards of crystal from his palm. When he was satisfied that he had removed them all, he wrapped a towel around it and returned to flop back onto the couch, shooting Tassin an accusing look.

  "A piece of stone would have been better. That stuff's sharp."

  "Where was I supposed to find stone on a spaceship?"

  "Good point." He sighed and picked up his glass with his left hand, taking a gulp. Tisha stared at the bits of crystal on the table and carpet, her expression disbelieving. Sabre put down his glass and held out his left hand to Tisha.

  "Give me your hand."

  She snatched them away and hid them in her lap. "No."

  "Tell me what Diarda ordered you to do."

  "No. I can't."

  "You're commander of the women now. You can do whatever you want."

  "I won't betray her."

  Sabre lunged across the table and grabbed Tisha's right hand, foiling her attempt to evade him. Sitting back down, he held her hand just firmly enough to prevent her from tugging it free, and she soon realised that her efforts were futile.

  Sabre gazed down at her slender hand. "You have lovely hands. It's a shame. What do you think this one will look like after I've done to it what I did to that crystal?"

  "You wouldn't."

  "How do you know that?" He cocked his head. "Do you know me so well?"

  She jerked a dagger from her belt with her free hand and held it close to her. "I won't let you."

  "Ah. Now that's just going to earn you a few slaps. Put it away."

  "No, I won't allow you to torture me. I'll fight."

  "Brave girl, but it won't do you any good. Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm at least four times stronger than a normal man, and my reflexes are measured in milliseconds. A normal man's are about point two of a second. Even a trained fighter is in the hundredths of a second range."

  Tisha shuddered. "What are you? That's what Diarda wanted to know. How you came to be able to beat our commander, despite your lack of stature."

  "What else?"

  "Nothing, I swear."

  "Why did she want to know that?"

  Tisha shook her head. "She didn't say, but probably so we could train warriors like you."

  Sabre released her hand and sat back. "Impossible."

  "Why?"

  "Would you be prepared to inject your sons with muscle enhancers and growth hormones from early childhood, put them through a twelve-year training regimen that will kill forty per cent of them, use electric shocks to speed up their reactions, and splice their genes with alien DNA?"

  "No, that's barbaric." Her mouth twisted.

  "That's the short version of what was done to me."

  "Who did it to you?"

  "Barbarians," Tassin muttered.

  Tisha glanced at her. "Did you help him to escape these people? Is this the debt he owes you?"

  "Well, that got around quickly," Sabre murmured. "Yes, she freed me."

  "With the help of the two men?"

  "No. They helped later."

  Tisha studied Tassin. "I understand now why she's so important to you."

  Tassin moved closer to Sabre and took his injured hand, unwrapping it to examine the cuts. "If I'd known you were going to hurt yourself, I'd never have let you crush that crystal."

  He shrugged. "It worked."

  "The information wasn't important enough."

  "We didn't know that."

  Tisha looked puzzled. "Why couldn't you escape these barbarians without her help? With your abilities, how could they keep you prisoner?"

  "The brow band contains a micro-supercomputer that used to control me. I was a slave."

  "You were a cyber host," Tassin corrected.

  "Same thing."

  "How vile," Tisha murmured.

  "Right, well, now you can run along and tell Diarda what you found out."

  "You don't want me to stay?"

  "No. I don't want you as my spouse. I only did it to humiliate Diarda and strip her of her rank."

  "And to humiliate me with your lack of interest."

  "That too."

  Tisha rose and left, looking subdued, and Tassin fetched the medical kit. After she had sprayed antiseptic on his cuts and bandaged his hand, she moved closer and ran her fingers down his cheek. Sabre turned his head and smiled, but was a little forced.

  "Are you all right now?" she asked.

  "Yeah, fine."

  "No, you're not."

  He sighed. "If you know, why ask?"

  "I was hoping for the truth, and perhaps a reason why."

  "I'd rather not discuss it, especially with you."

  "Why?"

  "I don't think you'd understand."

  She cocked her head. "It has something to do with me, doesn't it?"

  "Just leave it alone." Sabre jumped up and strode towards the door, but she got there before him and blocked it.

  "If you would just propose, we could get married now. We don't have to wait until we're back on Omega."

  He closed his eyes for a moment, then frowned at her. "Is that what you want?"

  "You know it is."

  He drew her into his arms. "Then you're a fool."

  "I don't care. Why am I a fool to want to marry the man I love?"

  "You're a fool to love me."

  "Why?"

  "Because I'm a damned cyborg, you bloody little idiot."

  She drew back to look up at him, but he avoided her eyes. "What has that got to do with it?"

  "Everything. I'm not normal. I'm so far from normal it even scares me."

  Tassin shook her head. "There’s no such thing as ‘normal’. Everyone is unique, and you were born human -"

  "I wasn't born. I was incubated in an artificial womb. They opened it and took me out when I was ready, like a loaf of bread. That's not being born."

  "It is, in a way."

  "A normal baby listens to its mother's heartbeat while it's growing in her womb, and she holds it when it's born..." He raised his head and stared across the room. "But this is beside the point."

  "Then tell me what the problem is. Or would you rather talk to Tarl about it? Maybe he knows the answer."

  "Hell no." Sabre swung away and we
nt back to the couch. "He always has a bloody answer. I think he makes them up as he goes along. I’ll figure out, so leave it alone, okay?”

  “No. I’m going to ask Tarl, if you won’t.”

  “Tassin… He doesn’t know everything.”

  “He knows more than I do, and I want to know what he knows.” She headed for the door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tarl frowned at her. "He's damaged. When are you going to get that through your brain?"

  "Explain it to me."

  "I just did. Let me do it again. He's damaged."

  Tassin glared at the ex-cyber tech, who lay on his bunk, propped up with pillows, his legs crossed. He had been reading a vidbook when she came in, and had listened to her question with patent annoyance.

  "He’s confused, that's all."

  He put down the vidbook. "Yeah, that's the understatement of the century."

  "Explain it to me."

  "It won't do any good."

  "He's human. There must be a way to help him," she said.

  "Actually, that's where you're wrong."

  “What do you mean?”

  Tarl glanced at the vidbook and switched it off. "You won't understand."

  "Please."

  He sighed. "Okay, listen carefully, because this is going to confuse the hell out of you. The supercomputer we call the cyber is the most advanced thinking machine ever designed. It learns at an astonishing rate, and has a computing ability that only increases as it learns. Once it learns something, it never forgets, and the information is stored in the host brain, which is essentially biological random access memory. It's a cold, unemotional, logical thinking machine. You with me so far?"

  Tassin nodded, trying to keep the confusion off her face.

  He looked thoughtful, tapping his chin. "How to explain this in simple terms... He can function very well as a free man. He can cope with almost any situation, but he doesn’t think like a man, because he’s programmed. Now he’s discovering such weird and wonderful things as emotions, and sensations like pleasure. Such things are not only totally alien to him, they're scary, and some are scarier than others. He's done well so far, but the hurdle he's faced with now is huge. That's why I advise you not to try to get him over it. Who knows what's on the other side?"