Sabre looked up as the door chimed, frowning. "Enter."
Vior, the fourth lieutenant, came in, looking surprised to find Tassin there. "Commander. We've received a distress signal. Do you want to respond to it?"
"We're sub light?"
"Yes, we left the last corridor two hours ago. We're stationary, awaiting your next instruction."
"Who sent the distress signal?"
"A yacht claiming to be unarmed, called Argent. They say they're being attacked by three pirate ships."
Sabre looked pensive. "I don't know if I want to get involved in someone else's problems. Three pirate ships would be a threat to us as well. How far away are they?"
"Half a light hour."
"By the time we get there, it'll probably be too late." He paused. "But why would pirates attack a yacht? It has no cargo to steal. Unless its passengers are worth ransom, but then it should be armed. Odd."
"Only one way to find out," Tassin murmured.
"It will be dangerous."
"Is this ship a match for three pirates?"
"That depends on the pirates." He glanced at her. "You think we should help them."
"We've had a lot of help. I think we should pay some back."
He turned back to Vior. "Lay in a course, light speed."
The fourth lieutenant looked eager. "Yes, Commander."
"Stop at a safe distance. Let's see what we're up against before we rush in."
Vior nodded and left, and Tassin turned to Sabre. "Perhaps the pirates want to steal the ship itself."
"Most of the advanced worlds have AIs in their ships; they're impossible to steal. They could be after parts, I suppose. Or fuel."
"Maybe it's not an advanced ship."
"Then there would be little point in stealing it."
"Surely even a primitive ship is worth a lot?"
"Not as much as you'd think." Sabre rose and picked up his trousers, frowning down at his strapped arm.
Tassin stood up. "I'll help you."
"I don't know why Tarl insisted that my arm should remain immobilised for so long. The injury isn't that serious."
She took his trousers from him. "You should be glad that he cares so much about you."
He snorted. "He doesn't. I'm just his pet project; his little experiment. He probably did it so I can't shove him around the next time he annoys me."
"You should stop shoving him around. He does care, and you know it. You just don't want to admit that an ex-cyber technician is capable of being a good person."
"If anything, he's just trying to salve his conscience."
Tassin fastened his trousers and picked up his tunic, helping him to put his free arm in the sleeve and drape it over his shoulder, fastening the clips. "This may come as a shock to you, but you're wrong. Tarl cares a lot for you."
Sabre grunted and bent to pull on his boots, then headed for the door, Tassin following. On the bridge, Vior shot her a resentful look, but with Sabre at her side she was safe from censure. Atrel arrived a few minutes later, his eyes bloodshot.
"Slowing to sub light," Vior stated. "Target ships dead ahead, fifteen light minutes away."
A soft female voice spoke calmly in an alien language, and Sabre cocked his head, listening to it. "Vernaxian." The voice spoke again, in a different language, and Sabre looked intrigued. "Spraytaal." The dulcet tones used a third tongue, and Sabre's brows rose. "Amendialect... Loxarn... Avondese..." The voice spoke in Anglo, and finally Tassin could understand it.
"This is the yacht Argent. Please help us. We are being attacked by three pirate vessels. We are unarmed."
"It repeats the message in twenty-four languages," Vior supplied, studying Sabre. "How many can you understand, Commander?"
Sabre smiled. "Pretty much all of them."
"All twenty-four?" Vior looked amazed.
"No, all the known languages."
Vior's brows shot up, and several officers glanced around. "That's got to be over a thousand, Commander."
"Actually, it's three thousand seven hundred and fifty-two, counting all the dialects, which, although they're variations of a language, are impossible to understand if you can only speak the mother tongue. That's also counting the forty-four alien languages we know of." Sabre paused, listening to the message again. "And that one, I don't know."
The voice spoke in a lilting, melodic tongue that sounded like poetry. Sabre turned to gaze at the forward screens as a distant cluster of specks became visible.
"Should we reply to the message, tell them we're here to help them?" Vior asked.
"No. Let's see what we're up against first, and I don't want to alert the pirates. With any luck they're too busy with their target to notice us, and I don't want them to know our intentions even if they do see us."
Chapter Nineteen
Ramela opened her eyes and turned to Kyllia. "Another ship is approaching, dearest."
"Friend or foe?"
"It does not speak. It came at light speed, but now it seems to be stopping."
"How does it look?"
"Another primitive, but larger than the first three and more sophisticated. It is heavily armed. A warship, I think. It is silver, with red markings."
"Silver is good, a pure colour. Red is bad, a sign of anger."
"Another foe?"
Kyllia inclined her head. "Here in the below realm, most are foes. I had hoped to summon one of the great ones."
"Perhaps one will still come."
Kyllia stroked the column of light at her side. "Our brave Argent still hurts. Her power wanes to ward off the weapons of the three. Her injury festers."
"The new ship has stopped. Still it is silent. Should Argent speak to it?"
"No, leave it be."
****
Sabre frowned at the scene in the screens. The ship the pirates attacked was hard to make out. Its outline shimmered, and it gave off so much light that looking directly at it was painful.
He looked away, blinking. "Those pirates seem to have cornered an injured mobile bloody star."
"We can take them, Commander," Vior said. "The largest is a mere frigate, the other two barely more than fighters. Nemesis is a destroyer."
"You just want to fight someone, Vior."
"As any warrior would."
Sabre sighed. "Okay, go to battle stations."
A siren whooped, and distant clanks and whines signalled the deployment of the huge lasers.
"All guns warmed up and functional, targets in range." Vior announced.
"Main forward lasers, target the two nearest ships. Port side auxiliary lasers target the third pirate. Fire at will."
Twin beams of red light shot from under the screens, and a third lanced from the left side of the ship. A burst of fire blossomed on the nearest pirate ship, which broke off its attack and turned to confront Nemesis. The second pirate was hit, and swung away from its target, but the auxiliary laser missed the third ship. Beams of orange light spat from the bows of the first pirate, strafing space close to Nemesis' starboard side.
"Evasive manoeuvres," Sabre ordered.
Nemesis moved sideways as the starboard thrusters fired, and the beams of red light missed their target while the lasers turned to keep the enemy ship in their sights. The lasers re-acquired the target, and glowing spots appeared on the pirate's flank. The other two moved to engage Nemesis, which shuddered as a laser bolt struck it.
****
Ramela smiled, bowing her head. "The new ship has attacked the three."
"That does not make it a friend, sweetness. It may wish to capture us itself."
"But now Argent can use her power to heal herself."
Kyllia stroked the column of light. "Argent's wound is deep."
"The new one is powerful, dearest. Already it has wounded one of the three badly. It flees."
"And we may be in even greater danger if the new ship is also a foe."
Ramela closed her eyes, raising her face to the soft fall of golden light th
at engulfed her. "The new ship is now also wounded, but it has wounded another of..." Her eyes opened wide, and she gave a soft gasp. "It is destroyed... they perish." Ramela stepped out of the column of light, folding her hands before her. Tears ran down her cheeks. "May they fly to the light."
"Dearest, though it pains you, I must know what is happening," Kyllia murmured.
Ramela bowed her head again and stepped back into the golden light. "The last of the three is fleeing. The new ship appears to be badly wounded. It leaks something..."
"The primitive ships are metal shells that hold in air for their inhabitants, and fuel to power their flight."
"They may also die."
"Yes."
"They saved us."
Kyllia looked away. "They chose to fight. We cannot help them."
"That seems cruel, sweetness."
"Look at them, and see what is in their hearts."
Ramela raised her face to the light once more, closing her eyes. "They are great warriors... they live to fight. They came to save us... and..."
Kyllia glanced around. "And?"
"There is one... who is not like the rest... he is strange. He has..."
"What?"
"Light."
****
"Damage report," Sabre ordered.
"Our starboard neosin bank has been breached. The thrusters are preventing us from rolling, but we're losing power fast. Transferring the remainder into our empty crystals. Some minor damage to one of the port thrusters, and our forward hull plating has been weakened."
"How much power have we lost?"
"Thirty per cent."
Sabre cursed. "We're not going to make it to Omega Five. The nearest planet where we can refuel and have repairs made is Avarice Two, a nasty place, and probably where those pirates are based. It's also in the opposite direction, and the only one we can reach with our remaining neosin."
Vior looked up from the star chart he was perusing. "You're right. How do you know that, Commander?"
Sabre shrugged. "I know a lot of things."
"Even a pirate world would not take on a Trykon warship, surely?" Atrel asked. "They know we will fight to the death, destroying many of them before we were also destroyed. It would be pointless."
"All they have to do is refuse to sell us the neosin."
"What about them?" Atrel jerked his chin at the shining ship in the screens. The venting neosin had pushed them closer to it, and now they drifted nearer still.
Sabre glanced at the star ship and squinted, looking away with lights dancing in his eyes. "I doubt that ship uses the same fuel as we do. And judging by the fact that they're adrift, they may have even more problems than us. Ask them if they need any more help."
****
"It speaks." Ramela's eyes opened. "Not the pure one... another. They ask if we need more help."
"Tell them we do not." Kyllia stroked the column of light. "Argent heals herself now. Tell them we are grateful."
"Their ship is badly wounded, sweetness. If we leave them here, they may die."
"What can we do, dearest?"
"I think we should speak to the pure one, in person."
Kyllia turned large, colourless eyes upon her companion. "Bring him into Argent?"
"Yes, dearest. Let us see him more clearly."
"For what purpose?"
"Curiosity?"
Kyllia smiled. "Do you really think this is wise?"
Ramela closed her eyes. "Never have I encountered such purity in the below realms... he is born of the light."
"You speak out of turn, sweetness. That is not possible."
"He is light... and sorrow. We can help him."
Kyllia bowed her head. "Many hours remain before Argent is healed. Speak to him then, if it pleases you."
****
The atmosphere was expectant on Nemesis’ bridge as they waited for a reply. One of the officers had activated the light screens, which dulled the star ship’s brilliance and revealed a vaguely ovoid shape with curving streams of radiance arcing out from it, like solar flares. Tassin jumped when the communications console came to life, and the soft, dulcet voice spoke in Anglo.
"Greetings, good ship. We are grateful for your aid, and mourn your wounding in our defence. We wish to speak to the pure one amongst you, and will convey him hither. Be not alarmed, he will not be harmed."
"Pure one?" Sabre glanced at Tassin, looking puzzled.
She shook her head, then her eyes widened in alarm. "They must mean you."
"Why me? I'm not -"
A tunnel of blinding light shot from the star ship in the blink of an eye, making Tassin close her eyes and throw up her hands to ward off its brilliance. When she opened them again, blinking away the dancing spots, Sabre was gone. She gaped at the space where he had been standing.
"No!"
Atrel scowled. "Target that ship! Prepare to fire."
"No!" Tassin shouted again, swinging to face him. "Sabre's aboard it, you could injure him!"
"Be silent, non-com," Vior said.
"They said they wouldn't harm him," she said.
"I said be silent!" Vior stepped towards her.
"Leave her," Atrel commanded. "She's right on both counts. Tell them to return the commander, or we attack."
Vior sent the message, and tense moments passed before the dulcet voice spoke again. "The pure one is safe with us. We will return him soon."
A pregnant silence fell as Atrel digested this, then he nodded. "Very well. We wait."
****
Blinding white light stabbed Sabre's eyes, and he clamped a hand over them with a grunt of pain. A soft floor cushioned his feet, and warm, perfumed air surrounded him. The cyber's scanners were blank. Crouching, he ran his fingers over the floor's satin surface, keeping his eyes closed.
"Our light is too bright for you," a soft female voice said beside him. "We will dim it. There."
Sabre opened his eyes a slit, and found that the brilliance was now bearable, though still a little painful. A feminine being stood close beside him, her face an epitome of the ideals of beauty. She had refined features, enormous silvery eyes fringed by impossibly long lashes, a rosebud mouth and shining skeins of white hair, all of it hard to see through the glow she emanated. A shapeless, shining white gown hung from her shoulders to the floor, giving no hint of the form within it, and long sleeves hid her hands. The being held out an arm, and the sleeve slid back to reveal a slender, long-fingered hand.
"Welcome, pure one."
Sabre gazed at her hand, unsure. "What are you? Why have you brought me here?"
"We are from the upper realms, where creatures of pure energy reside, like us. We wish to speak to you."
"Why?"
"You are different from your companions. You are a higher form of being, and we sense... a light within you. Of all the below realm races we have studied, we have not seen one like you before."
Sabre glanced around, but the surroundings were still too bright to see much. "There are plenty like me."
"No. You are unique."
"What do you want with me?"
"To speak, that is all." The being lowered her hand. "Do not fear us."
"Speak about what?"
"How you came to be."
"That's a long and unpleasant story."
She bowed her head and folded her hands. "We sense in you a part of us. Will you allow me to touch you?"
Sabre remained in a crouch, his hand on the floor, ready to spring away. She made him uneasy. "What for?"
"I can learn much from it."
"If you're so advanced, why couldn't you defend yourself from three pirates?"
"Argent is injured, and we have no weapons. We were trying to heal a star when it died. The shockwave was powerful, and it sent us into the below realm."
"A supernova?"
She inclined her head. "That is what you call it."
"Argent is your ship."
"And our sister." She held out her hand agai
n. "I am Ramela. Please take my hand."
Sabre hesitated, studying her glowing appendage, his instincts rebelling. A red light flashed deep in his mind, the cyber's usual reaction to anything it did not understand. Straightening, he raised his left hand and stretched it out, his fingertips brushing hers for an instant. He snatched it back with an oath as a tingling shock ran up his arm.
Ramela stepped back, closing her eyes. "You have Gwaran in you."
"Gwaran?"
"A servant race of the Asteria. How can this be?"
Sabre shook his head. "How the hell should I know?"
"It is impossible."
He frowned, pondering. "What do Gwaran look like?"
"Much as you do, only they are a higher order of being."
"Archetype."
"Meaning?"
"My race found a corpse floating in space, a long time ago. Its DNA was spliced with mine, and all the others like me."
"The lost one." She opened her eyes. "Why was this done?"
"To improve us. To give us better immunity to alien diseases, amongst other things."
"And why was this done to you, while others of your race remain as they were?"
"There are many like me, and it was done because we're... cyborgs. We're designed to be weapons, not people."
"Weapons?" Ramela glanced into the brilliance, were another ghostly, shining form stood. "That is a poor use of the powers of a higher being, indeed."
"Archetype was not a being of pure energy; he was flesh and blood."
"Yes, the Gwaran are the lowest of the beings of light, but when they are alive, they are filled with it. They do have mortal bodies, however."
"Why did you call me the pure one?"
Ramela's tiny mouth curved into a sweet smile. "Your thoughts are of a higher order than those around you. A Gwaran legacy, no doubt. You are mostly human, but touched by light. You are also filled with sorrow, and I would like to help you."
"How?"
She gestured with a delicate hand. "That instrument on your brow."
The Cyber Chronicles 06: Warrior Breed Page 23