"But you admitted it. I suspected it, yeah. I can see you're not a violent man." Tarl gave a bark of laughter and straightened, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell am I saying? Look at you. You're a warrior born and bred, but you're not a killer. There's a difference, and I want you to see it. I've seen it in your eyes, but you can't. You're too close to the action."
"I'm a killing machine, but I'm not a killer."
"That's right. What you're capable of and what you want to do are two entirely different things. You see?"
"And that makes killing people okay?"
Tarl nodded. "Yeah, when they’re trying to kill us."
"I killed sixty-one men today, to keep you safe. How is that a fair thing? When do the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, in this case?"
"They don't. Everyone wants to live, bud, it's just a question of who can do it. Survival of the fittest, I believe it's called."
"Pitting a cyber against normal men isn't fair."
"No, of course it's not." Tarl picked up the second dressing and stuck it over the wound in Sabre's flank. "But that's the reason cybers were created, to protect those who can't protect themselves, and anyone who's stupid enough to take on a cyber is going to die."
"What makes your lives more valuable than theirs?"
"We have you, so ours will cost anyone who tries to take them dearly."
"So you're saying that I shouldn't feel bad about killing people to protect you, because without me, you'd be dead?"
Tassin giggled, and Tarl shot her a hard look. "Since time immemorial, men have fought and died to protect their families, their loved ones, their clan, tribe or village. They didn't feel bad about it, and do you know why?"
Sabre shrugged. "It was a fair fight?"
"Because they survived. Their families and children survived, thanks to them. They didn't care if it was a fair fight or not. They only wanted to live, and that was their reward. They were proud."
"Two hours ago I killed sixty-one idiots who were expecting a fair fight, and if not for me they would have won."
"And we'd be dead."
"That's not the point. They didn't know they couldn't kill me. They rushed at me like I was just another warrior. They didn't know what they were up against."
Tarl nodded. "Lambs to the slaughter."
"Precisely. I don't feel bad about keeping you alive... well maybe I feel a bit bad about saving your sorry arse, but not Tassin. I'm glad I could keep her safe, but you weren't there, you didn't see..."
"Don't think about that. Be glad they weren't your equals. If they had been, you'd be dead. So you have an advantage, that’s all."
Sabre stared at him for several seconds, then slid off the table and stood up, winced and fingered the dressing on his ribs. "You chose to be a cyber tech. Kernan chose to be a mercenary. Even Tassin could give up her throne if she wished, but I was never given a choice. As you said, whenever there's danger, I'm the one who has to kill people, whether I like it or not."
"Yeah, that sucks."
"So don't expect me to be proud of it."
"Okay, but don't hate yourself. Hate the people who made you a cyber. It's their fault."
"I hate them too." Sabre went over to the bunk and flopped down on it. "I need to rest."
"Right. What's your -?"
"Seventy-two per cent, okay? Now piss off."
Tarl let himself out, and Tassin retreated to her adjoining room, since Sabre seemed to want to be alone. She stripped off her jeans and boots and lay down on her bed in her top and undergarments. A few minutes later, she sensed a presence close by and opened her eyes, surprised to find Sabre standing there, looking shy and a trifle embarrassed.
"Mind if I join you?"
Tassin smiled and moved aside so he could lie beside her, and he did so, turning to face her. Her heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and wonder at his unexpected presence in her bed. His eyes avoided hers as he stroked her arm, then he slid his arms around her waist and drew her close, laying his cheek on her shoulder, his brow pressed to the side of her neck. She hugged his neck and held him close, amazed and delighted that he had sought her out and clearly had a strong wish to be near her.
Sabre sighed, and his arms tightened, his fingers caressing her back. She stroked his hair, cherishing the closeness she had dreamt of sharing with him for so long. That he was developing a wish for human contact, particularly hers, elated her, and she hoped this was the beginning a new chapter in their relationship. She had no qualms about his intentions, she knew all he wanted was to hold her, and it was easy to relax in his arms, where she felt so safe. Her heart ached with love for this gentle, sweet-natured man, and, while she longed for more, she was certain that would come in time. For now, all she wanted was more moments like this, when she could hold him. She sensed that he had no wish to talk, and within a few minutes his hands grew still and his breaths deepened as he fell asleep. She lay awake, glad that he had somehow overcome the cyber’s alarms and his conditioning, and all the other horrible things that had been done to him, so he could fall asleep holding her.
Chapter Fourteen
The cyber's flashing warning light woke Sabre, and he glanced at the scanner information. A human life form approached the door of the adjoining cabin, where he was supposed to be. Only he was in Tassin’s bed, where he had fallen asleep earlier. He had been far too hyped up to sleep after the battle, and he had found her closeness immensely comforting during his traumatic episode in the shower. He was glad, now, that she had invaded his privacy, and he had been too sunk in battle withdrawal to be embarrassed. He could not explain his wish to be close to her when he had come to her earlier, still thrumming with fatigue and aching from his injuries, but she had started something in the shower that he could not shake. As he had hoped, holding her had had the same effect, and just a couple of minutes of closeness had relaxed him sufficiently for him to fall asleep. Evidently being close to her, particularly when she held him, comforted him immensely. So much so that even the cyber’s irritating warnings could not put him off now.
The chime of his cabin door’s entry-call came, and he cursed. His arms tightened around the sleeping girl, wishing he could stay. It appeared that neither of them had moved in the four hours they had slept, although she had shifted closer, and her legs were tangled with his. He smiled as he recalled that she did tend to become bolder in her sleep. She sighed and squirmed closer, her arms tightening around his neck, and he drew back to gaze at her, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. He ignored the instant analysis that appeared in his mind, cursing the monster in the brow band that constantly reminded him that everything he did was supposed to be combat-related. She was so trusting, he reflected, although she had nothing to fear from him. That she seemed to know it was important to him, and he did not know what he would do if she ever stopped trusting him. He would never give her a reason to, no matter what.
The entry-call chimed again, and he eased free of her arms without waking her, rose and padded into the adjoining cabin, where he touched the button that opened the door. A balding non-com man stood outside, looking nervous and holding a bundle of clothes, which he proffered.
"From First Lieutenant Atrel. The feast starts in half an hour."
Sabre took the clothes, and the non-com hurried off. As the door closed, he examined the tasteful, if somewhat overly dramatic garments. The outfit comprised a black waistcoat with gold embroidery on the overshot shoulders, matching trousers and dark grey shirt. A sword with a silver-studded shoulder strap and ornate scabbard completed the ensemble. Tassin came in as he finished dressing, and studied him.
"That looks impressive."
"You think so? The effect will be spoilt by the fact that everyone else will be a lot taller than me, I suspect."
"Size isn't important."
"They seem to think it is."
"The bigger they are, the harder they fall."
He smiled. "And the harder they are to knock down,
generally."
"As if you'd ever have a problem with that."
"Trying to boost my ego?"
"Is it working?"
His smile widened, and he held out his hand, drawing her close when she took it. She leant against him and slipped her arm around his waist, looking up at him. He raised her hand and kissed it, then held it against his cheek.
"At least you're shorter than me."
"You like that, don't you?"
"Yeah. I don't like looking up at people. It gives me a crick in my neck."
Tassin gripped the brow band and pulled his head down to kiss him, and he smiled again when she released him.
"That's not a handle, you know."
"It comes in mighty handy as one, though."
He cupped her cheek. "I should go."
"I want to come with you."
"I don't think that would be a good idea. I won't be long."
"Please let me come. You might need some moral support."
He eyed her. "The women will the there too, I suspect."
"I promise to behave myself."
"I'm just going to go and get that commander's sword, then I'll come straight back."
"Good, I'll enjoy the walk. I need to stretch my legs."
He threw up his hands. "Fine, come then."
Tassin grinned and headed for the washroom. "I'll just freshen up a bit."
"Hurry up."
Sabre fidgeted as minutes ticked past, glancing at the chronometer on the wall. "Come on, Tassin."
"You want me to look my best, don't you?"
"I don't care what you look like."
She emerged from the washroom, her hair arranged in shining swathes, her skin glowing. "That's not a nice thing to say."
"Why? Would you like it better if I did?"
"I want you to be proud of me."
"I'm always proud of you."
She patted her hair. "Don't you think this looks better?"
"No."
"You don't like it like this?"
"I like it fine. Let's go."
Tassin folded her arms. "How do you prefer it then?"
"I don't know. It looks fine like that, or loose, or in a plait. Does this really matter?"
"Yes. I want to look my best."
"If you think you look better, what does it matter what I think?"
Her brows rose. "Of course it matters. I want to be the most beautiful woman there, and there will be a lot of competition."
He smiled. "Tassin, even when you were covered in mud after we escaped from Olgara, you were still more beautiful than any of the Trykon women could ever hope to be."
Her eyes sparkled. "You know, for a man who's unversed in the fine art of flattery, you have a way with words."
"Let's go. We're late."
"Let them wait. You're the commander."
He went to the door. "I want to get this over with, so I can get some more rest."
Tassin caught up with him in the corridor and took his arm. "Only the Trykon women?"
He snorted and shook his head, casting her an amused glance. "Give it a rest, okay? And you can't hold onto me when we get to the combat room. You're a non-com ward; you have to walk behind me."
"I'll be glad when we leave these barbaric people."
"They're not as bad as some."
They rounded a corner and almost bumped into Tarl, who looked surprised and fell into step beside them. "Where are we going?"
"To the celebratory feast," Sabre said.
"Oh good, that should be fun."
"No one invited you."
Tarl shrugged. "That's okay, I'm not easily offended."
The two warriors outside the combat room door nodded when Sabre walked past, which was as close to a salute as Trykons came. Sabre stopped just inside the door, took in the scene and noted the flashing red light deep in his mind. One situation the cyber disliked intensely was a confined space filled with a lot of large, armed potential opponents.
Every officer was there, including group leaders, plus a number of warriors who had probably acquitted themselves well in the battle, Sabre surmised. All of them sported missing parts, numerous bandages and triumphant smiles. The officers' spouses and those of the warriors stood in murmuring groups, their eyes weighing the competition that the spouses of the enemy officers offered, their expressions spiteful and gloating. The defeated officers carried no weapons, unlike Sabre's men, and their disgruntled demeanour matched the sour looks of their spouses. A section of wall had been opened up to incorporate a counter covered with platters of roasted pseudo meat and spiced vegetables that Trykons loved and Sabre loathed. Bottles of wine and flagons of ale were lined up in rows behind a wall of glasses.
Sabre's entry went unnoticed, and he chose a gap that led to the counter, Tassin and Tarl at his heels. The non-com who stood behind the counter stiffened when he spotted Sabre, his eyes darting. Sabre leant on the counter and perused the food, his stomach reminding him of its emptiness. Tassin helped herself to some choice titbits, and Tarl joined her. Sabre piled a plate, ignoring the alcohol.
A murmur of deep voices filled the room, and the rather overpowering smell of inadequately washed male bodies mingled with the musky scent the women wore. The atmosphere was close and thick with an overabundance of testosterone that made Sabre's scalp prickle with unease. Several nearby officers noticed him and inclined their heads. Sabre had just filled his mouth when a looming bulk arrived beside him, and he glanced up at Atrel, who smiled.
"Welcome, Commander."
Sabre nodded and turned back to his plate.
"The Wolf Clan commander, Trival, is waiting for you."
Sabre shrugged. "Let him wait."
"He grows angry. He thinks you're insulting him."
"I don't care."
"It's not polite."
"I'm eating."
Atrel leant closer. "Please, Commander."
"Fine." Sabre put down his fork. "This had better not take long."
"It's a mere formality."
"It's a pain in the butt."
Atrel led Sabre to the group of enemy officers, stepping aside when he reached them. "Commander Trival," he said, "this is the commander of Nemesis, Sabre."
Sabre looked up at a blond giant with side-mounted scanners attached to polished silver plates on either side of his head, a squashed nose and a scar that pulled his left eyelid down. Trival's brows drew together.
"Is this your idea of a sick joke, First Lieutenant?"
"No. Do you see anyone laughing?"
Trival glanced around, and Sabre noticed a few officers who were struggling to keep a straight face, but not for the reason that Trival thought.
"As a matter of fact, I do," Trival said.
Atrel eyed the crowd. "They're only amused by your reaction, which is much as we expected it to be."
"You dare to put your commander's torc on a weakling non-com and present him to me? Where is your commander?"
"Right in front of you."
"This isn't funny."
"I'm not laughing."
Trival looked around again as several officers chuckled. "You appear to be the only one who isn't."
"Are you refusing to surrender your sword?"
"To a non-com wearing your commander's torc, yes."
"Sabre is our commander."
Trival raked Sabre with a scathing glance. "When the Wolf Clan hears about this insult, Eagle Clan prisoners will experience similar insults."
Sabre turned and marched away. "Let me know when he's ready to hand over that damned sword, Atrel, my food's getting cold."
"Stay where you are!" Trival barked.
Sabre faced him again, about three metres away. "Are you speaking to me?"
"Yes, non-com scum. Remove that torc. You insult its rank."
Sabre contemplated him, then turned to Atrel. "Shouldn't he be in chains?"
"It's not customary. He's bound by etiquette."
"Etiquette evidently doesn't bind his
tongue."
"Normally he would not dare to insult a victorious commander."
Sabre nodded. "So what happens now?"
"That's up to you, Commander."
"Well, if he won't surrender his sword to me, then you'd better take it off him."
Atrel looked uneasy. "I have no authority to do that."
"I'm ordering you to."
"It would be better if you did it."
"But he can't," Trival jeered. "If he was truly your commander, he would be able to do it."
Sabre eyed him. "Killing sixty-one of your men has tired me out a little, and, since the battle is won, I'm not in the mood."
"Brave lies, for a dwarf. Bring out your commander before I put an end to this farce myself."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"Like this." Trival yanked a dagger from his belt and hurled it at Sabre, who caught it in a lightning-fast reflex. A dozen swords hissed from their scabbards and surrounded Trival's throat in a ring of steel. Trival's eyes narrowed when Sabre tossed the dagger into the air and caught it. He waved the officers back, and they sheathed their weapons. Sabre hefted the dagger, and then hurled it back at Trival, who flung up his right arm in time to deflect the weapon off his metal wrist guard. The dagger hit the floor with a clatter. A grey-haired woman thrust past the warriors around Trival, her face flushed with rage.
"How dare you allow a non-com to attack a Wolf Clan commander!" she shouted. "Has the Eagle Clan lost all its honour?"
Sabre's eyes flicked over her. "Who's this, your mother?"
"My spouse," Trival said.
"You need a new one."
Trival turned to Atrel. "This has gone far enough. Bring out your commander before I kill this little idiot."
"Threatening the commander who triumphed over you is a grave breach of etiquette, Trival. I would advise caution, lest Wolf Clan commanders be similarly insulted by Eagle Clan prisoners."
"Wolf Clan commanders would never trot out a non-com in a gold torc and expect a defeated Eagle Clan commander to surrender his sword to him."
"Eagle Clan commanders would not accuse their captors of lying."
"How much longer are you going to drag this idiocy out, Atrel?"
Sabre sighed. "Yeah, Atrel, why don't you just take this..." He pulled off the torc and tossed it to the first lieutenant. "Put it on, get his damned sword, then give it back to me. End of argument."
The Cyber Chronicles 06: Warrior Breed Page 16