The Cyber Chronicles 06: Warrior Breed

by T C Southwell

  ****

  Atrel stared at the Moth Ship, his mouth dry. The second lieutenant donned the silver torc, looking uneasy.

  "The penalty for lying to an Overlord is death, First Lieutenant."

  "I'm aware of that, Tronan. What would you rather do, betray our commander?"

  "If an Overlord has sentenced him to death, he must have done something terrible."

  "He's still our commander. Our loyalty lies with our clan."

  "He's already ordered us to commit treason."

  Atrel frowned at him. "And betraying him would be a greater crime."

  "By rights, he should have been imprisoned and taken before a high commander."

  "And who would have imprisoned him, you? There's a reason why we choose the most powerful men to rule us, and when one is so powerful that no one can stand against him, his word is law. Sabre could become our warlord if he chose to challenge Arzam. You joined the ship after the battle. You haven't had the privilege of seeing him fight."

  Several officers glanced around, nodding, and Tronan inclined his head. The Moth Ship now filled the screens, starlight glinting on its filigree wings. A red laser beam shot across the gap, aimed at the bridge.

  "You have broken the law, Trykons." The deep, distorted voice emanated from the com-station's speakers. "The penalty for breaking an Overlord's decree is death. Do you wish to speak on your own behalf?"

  "Yes,” Atrel said. “It was an engine malfunction, My Lord. We were on a training flight, and the solar wings would not deactivate. We were about to turn back."

  After a brief silence, the voice said, "You will come before me."

  "I swear it's the truth."

  Atrel's bones tingled, and he tensed. Nemesis' bridge vanished, and blood-chilling cold engulfed him for an instant. His feet hit solid ground, and he reeled as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Regaining his balance, he glanced around at a vast silver and gold chamber that floating globes and recessed lighting filled with warm radiance. Two stern-faced soldiers in silver uniforms stepped up to disarm him. Thin gold lines ran down their chests and sleeves and encircled their cuffs, and tiny silver projectile weapons were holstered on their belts. Atrel sensed a presence to his right and turned to face a hooded, veiled figure clad in flowing black robes. The Overlord stood on a dais a few metres away, his hands hidden in his sleeves.

  "Approach."

  Atrel drew himself up and walked closer, reminding himself of his clan's proud heritage. Even an Overlord could not intimidate a Trykon.

  "In the decades since the decree, no Trykon has broken it," Ramadaus said. "Now you would have me believe that an engine malfunction brought you two hundred light years from Tryandia?"

  "Yes, My Lord."

  Ramadaus withdrew gloved hands from his sleeves and stepped down from the dais. "Curious. Bind him."

  The soldiers beside Atrel gripped his arms and twisted them behind his back, then clamped a pair of handcuffs onto his wrists. Another pair took up position behind him, their weapons aimed at his back.

  Ramadaus removed a glove and laid his hand on Atrel's brow. "You're hiding something. You lied. You're filled with guilt. What are you hiding?"

  "Nothing."

  "You cannot lie to me. Tell me the truth, or I shall destroy your ship." Ramadaus withdrew his hand and replaced his glove, then tucked it away in his sleeve again, stepping back.

  Atrel searched his mind for some way to tell the truth, or an acceptable version of it, without betraying Sabre. "We were exploring. We've harmed no one."

  "Really. More believable, but still a lie. Your hesitation betrays you." He turned away. "Target the Trykon ship."

  "No!" Atrel stepped forward, but the guards grabbed him and held him back. "Wait!"

  Ramadaus turned to face him again. "I'm waiting."

  Atrel bowed his head. If he lied again, everyone would die, including Sabre. There was no choice. "Our commander ordered us to take him to an unknown destination."

  "Where is he?"

  "Hiding. He claims you want to kill him."

  The Overlord stepped closer. "Indeed? What is his name?"

  Atrel grimaced. "Sabre."

  "He is not a Trykon."

  "He joined our clan two weeks ago."

  "And became your commander in a few hours?"

  Atrel nodded.

  Ramadaus walked back to the dais and mounted it. "So, fate has delivered the abomination to me. Trent, scan the ship and transport him here to me."

  Ramadaus’ senior officer and aide, Commander Trent, a stocky, balding middle-aged man with sharp brown eyes and a strong chin, spoke into a com-link, and the men released Atrel.

  "Why do you want him dead?" he demanded.

  "That is not your concern."

  "Will you release the rest of us?"

  "Yes. You will return at once to Tryandia. Release him."

  The guards removed the handcuffs, and Atrel slumped.

  "We've located him, My Lord," Trent said. "Transporting in thirty seconds."

  The tension grew as the seconds ticked past, and Atrel wished he could leave before Sabre arrived. The translocation beam appeared as a flash of shimmering light and intense cold, and Sabre materialised a few metres away, staggering a little, as Atrel had done. He recovered more swiftly and turned to Atrel first, then glanced at Ramadaus. Dozens of soldiers aimed their weapons at the unarmed cyber.

  Atrel turned to him, pulling off the golden torc. "He didn't believe me, Commander."

  Sabre nodded. "I guess it was too much to hope for."

  "He threatened to destroy Nemesis."

  "I understand."

  "I did not want to betray you." Atrel held out the torc.

  "I know. Keep it; you're commander of Nemesis now."

  "No, Commander. This is yours. If we must return without a commander, we will. You can't give back what you won. Your loss will be mourned."

  "I'm a traitor, remember?" Sabre glanced at Ramadaus, then back at Atrel. "It doesn't matter. Do what you will, but do one last thing for me. Do as Tassin says."

  "Your ward?"

  "Yes. Obey her. She might be able to help me."

  "She's a non-com."

  "Just do it!"

  "Enough of this," Ramadaus said. "No one can help you. The Trykon will remain to witness your execution."

  Atrel tossed the torc to Sabre. It hit the floor with a metallic chime and slid to a stop at his feet. Sabre ignored it. "Not keen on facing Fairen, Ramadaus?"

  "Fairen will not interfere."

  "Why don't we find out? Tell him you have me; see what he does."

  "I would not waste his time, or mine."

  "You know he'll come for me. You're afraid."

  Ramadaus snorted. "Fairen won't help you."

  "He will, and you know it. That's why you won't release Atrel. You're afraid of what will happen when Fairen finds out."

  "I merely wish to spare him from being bothered with such a petty matter."

  "I'm under his protection."

  Ramadaus shook his head. "Not at the moment."

  ****

  Tassin ran along the corridor to the bridge, Tarl at her heels. Warriors growled and buffeted her as she brushed past them, but their curses fell on deaf ears. Her heart ached with anguish. Sabre had stopped in on his way to the engine room to explain what was going on, and she had insisted on going with him. Tarl had tagged along, too. Before they had reached a shielded area, Sabre had vanished in a burst of cold light, and now only one thought hammered in her brain. She had to contact Fairen. He was Sabre's only hope. She burst into the bridge, her breath coming in sobbing gasps. Looming warriors turned to glare at her with flinty eyes.

  "No non-coms allowed on the bridge," the second lieutenant said.

  "I need a communication device, now!" Tassin said.

  "Go back to your cabin."

  "Ramadaus will execute Sabre. I have to summon help!"

  "The Overlord has the commander?"

  "Yes!"r />
  Tronan shook his head. "Then no one can help him."

  Tarl brushed past her to get to a console, his eyes scanning it. "This is the communications console."

  "Do you remember the frequency?"

  "Yes, I -"

  An officer gripped the back of Tarl's jacket and hurled him against the wall, forcing a grunt of surprise and pain from him. Tassin drew out the laser she held behind her back and pointed it at the second lieutenant.

  "Let him use the communications console," she ordered.

  Tronan eyed her, his lip curling. "A weakling weapon. How dare you threaten a Trykon officer?"

  "I'll do whatever it takes to save Sabre, including blowing off your head."

  "You're a non-com. The penalty for threatening a warrior is death."

  "Sabre is your commander. You have to help me save him."

  "If he dies, he'll no longer be our commander, and you'll no longer enjoy his protection, little girl,” Tronan said. “Beware that you don't incur our wrath."

  "I don't bloody care about your wrath! If he dies, so will I."

  "Damn right you will, and it won't be an easy death."

  "Stand aside, or I start blowing holes in you." Tassin aimed the laser at Tronan's groin, and he looked uneasy.

  Tarl climbed to his feet and headed for the console again. The officer who had thrown him against the wall stepped into his path, and Tassin pointed her weapon at him.

  "Stay back!"

  The officer glanced at Tronan and retreated, and Tassin switched her aim back to Tronan's groin. Tarl reached the console and pushed some buttons, turning a dial.

  "Okay, it's set on the Overlord's frequency. Call him."

  She sidled closer to the console, not taking her eyes off Tronan. Waving the laser at the rest of the crew, she herded them away from the console. "Anyone tries anything, they die."

  "Call him," Tarl said.

  "Overlord Fairen, this is Tassin Alrade. Overlord Ramadaus has taken Sabre. He needs your help urgently. Please answer. Help us."

  A faint hiss issued from the console, and Tronan sneered, "Stupid non-com. No one can summon an Overlord, least of all you."

  "He'll come. He might not reply, but he'll come." Tassin waved the laser at him. "Stay back."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sabre bent and picked up the torc, slipping it onto his neck. "So, how do you plan to execute me, Ramadaus? Suffocation? Poison? Drowning? Your options are a limited. No quick, clean death available."

  "I had something a little more entertaining in mind. I have wondered how you would measure up to a real cyber, and now I think I'll find out."

  Sabre grimaced. "Didn’t you already try that?”

  “Then you were under cyber control, and this time it will be against one, unarmed.”

  “How unpleasant."

  "Indeed. But then, executions are never nice."

  "And if I win, do I get to live?" Sabre asked.

  "No."

  "Might have guessed."

  Commander Trent looked up from his com-link. "My Lord, we've intercepted a communication on the Overlord frequency, from the Trykon ship. It's from Tassin Alrade, and she's asked Overlord Fairen for help."

  "So, your sweetheart seeks to aid you,” Ramadaus said. “Fairen won't come."

  Sabre closed his eyes and bowed his head as a wave of relief washed over him.

  Ramadaus turned to Trent. "Send for my cybers."

  Sabre raised his head. "Why the rush? Afraid Fairen will get here before I'm dead?"

  "Even if he does, there's nothing he can do."

  "What if Ravian comes, too?"

  "The Spider Lord is of no more concern to me than Fairen."

  Sabre glanced around as Ramadaus' two cybers entered, clad in full body armour and helmets with tinted visors. They moved with the lithe, cat-like grace cybers had, and he guessed that they were younger than him. They were also, he noticed, armed with lasers, unlike Ramadaus’ soldiers. Evidently he flouted Overlord tradition where his cybers were concerned, since they were most formidable when armed with lasers. The soldiers took Atrel over to the wall, where he would have a good view of the proceedings, but be out of the way.

  Ramadaus turned to the cybers. "Cyber One. You will engage the cyber before me in unarmed combat, to the death."

  The cyber stripped off his weapons' harness and dropped it, then walked towards Sabre, stopping a metre away. Sabre turned to face him, a red warning light flashing deep in his brain, telling him that he faced an A-grade. He glanced at the scrolling data, which listed the attributes of the field of combat, including dimensions, obstacles, possible weapons, atmosphere and other potential threats, as well as his bio-status, which was ninety-four per cent. Adrenalin coursed through him as he went into combat mode, making his hands tremble and bringing with it a rush of tension. The room seemed to brighten as his pupils dilated, sounds became louder, smells stronger, and his heart and breathing quickened, making him slightly dizzy.

  "Begin," Ramadaus ordered.

  Cyber One dropped into a forward handspring, and Sabre let the control unit guide him. He followed its tactical direction with flawless precision, almost allowing it to take control. He flung himself backwards, his boots missing Cyber One's head by a hair as the other cyber jerked back. Cyber One dived into a second handspring, and Sabre leapt over him, spinning to land a double-fisted blow on his opponent's kidneys. The cyber whipped around and punched Sabre in the side of the head, staggering him. His ear rang, and he shook his head as lights danced in his eyes. Had he been a normal man, his brains would have been splattered on the floor. He kicked Cyber One in the chest, sending him sprawling, but he rolled to his feet the instant he hit the floor. He moved closer with gliding grace and leapt into a spinning kick. Sabre ducked under it, straightened and punched Cyber One in the side of his helmet with brutal force, making him reel.

  Cyber One moved closer and aimed a series of lightning-fast punches at Sabre, who countered with equally swift blocking moves, adding a few attacking blows that his opponent countered with ease. Their arms moved in a blur, only the thud of fists on flesh telling of the contact they made. Pain flared in Sabre's forearms from the blows that would have broken a normal man's arms. The two control units were becoming synchronised, and the speed of the exchange grew faster as a result, but no real damage occurred. Cyber One lashed out with a foot, which Sabre countered, taking the blow on his shin.

  Pain flashed up his leg, and his arms were on fire. Cyber One spun, kicking again, but Sabre was already performing an identical move, and neither blow landed. Sabre leapt high and aimed a kick at his opponent's head. Cyber One ducked and jumped forward as Sabre landed, aiming a spinning kick at Sabre's head. Sabre flung himself into a backward handspring, and his boots' reinforced toes hit Cyber One under the chin and lifted him off the floor. The cyber performed a graceful backward somersault and landed on his feet. Diving into a forward roll, he leaped up beside Sabre, spun and drove his fists into Sabre's ribs.

  Sabre whipped away, making the blow a glancing one, and punched the side of Cyber One's head, knocking him down. He rolled to his feet and dived into another forward handspring. Sabre leapt over him, performed a backward twisting somersault and landed on his feet facing his opponent. Cyber One leapt into a high spinning kick, his boot missing Sabre's head by a hair as Sabre flung himself into a backward handspring.

  The two control units were fully synchronised now, and the fight became a ballet of lightning-fast moves resulting in glancing blows. Sabre let the cyber guide him. His heart was cruising at two hundred and forty beats per minute and his temperature had peaked at one hundred and two. Sweat poured off him, and his breathing came in deep gasps. His bio-status was down to ninety-two per cent.

  Atrel’s eyes were riveted to the spectacular battle, the speed and skill of which he could hardly believe. The two men moved like panthers, flew through the air as if they had wings and leapt like they had springs for legs. Neither hesitated, slippe
d or stumbled; their movements flowed with supreme precision, and they seemed to be reading each other's minds. Almost every blow was countered, and those that did land appeared to have little effect.

  They made no sound apart from their quick breaths and the occasional thud of fist or foot on flesh. If they had not been flesh and blood, he would have mistaken them for machines. They appeared to be following a routine, and he began to see patterns forming in it. The agility and stamina they exhibited was unbelievable, and he glanced around to ensure that he was not seeing things, but the soldiers were equally entranced. The fight had been going on for almost half an hour, yet neither warrior showed any sign of fatigue. Sabre's face, neck and arms gleamed with sweat. His opponent was clad in full armour, which was cracked now on the helmet and chest.

  In the middle of an established pattern, Sabre's hands flashed out, breaking the flow, and gripped his opponent's helmet, twisting his head with a violent jerk that should have broken his neck. Instead, he spun around, and Sabre smashed his brow band into the back of his opponent's helmet with a resounding crack. Cyber One staggered, and Sabre brought his fists down on the nape of his neck, hammering him to the ground. His face smacked into the floor, smashing his helmet, which split and fell off.

  Atrel's eyes widened at the sight of the stranger's face. Cyber One rolled onto his back and jerked up his legs, planted them in Sabre's chest and hurled him away with a powerful kick. Sabre landed on his feet, staggered back a little, then leapt forward again as Cyber One jumped up, smashing his feet into his opponent's face. Cyber One fell back, cracking his skull on the floor again. In Atrel's opinion, both men should have been dead.

  ****

  Someone shook Fairen’s shoulder, rousing him from a deep slumber, and his commander's voice called his title urgently. Fairen shrugged him off and burrowed deeper into the voluminous bed, pulling the duvet over his head.