The Cyber Chronicles IV - Cyborg (26 page)

"Why don't
cybers ever do that?"

"The control
unit has no concept of self, otherwise there's a risk of it
developing ego and self-awareness."

"And that's
bad?"

He nodded. "In
something as dangerous as a cyber, yes."

"Sabre's not
dangerous. He's a gentle, kind man."

"I wasn't
talking about the host. I'm referring to the control unit. It's an
amazing piece of technology, capable of learning a vast amount, but
handicapped by its inability to become self-aware. He's a grade A,
isn't he?"

"You can't
tell?"

"I’m pretty
sure, but the only way I could be certain is if I scanned his bar
code."

She tilted her
head. "What's that?"

"It's an
identification tag imbedded in the skin on the back of his skull,
containing all the information about him. It's invisible to the
naked eye, made from radioactive isotopes."

"I see. Yes,
he's a grade A. I thought the difference was easy to see. Sabre can
spot them at a glance."

"Some are
obvious, but you get high-quality B-grades that look just like a
grade A."

She nodded.
"Only their plating is flawed."

"Yes."

"How did you
discover that cyber hosts are... intelligent?"

He sat on the
couch. "I was in maintenance. One of their best techs. One day a
cyber was brought in, terribly burnt. It looked like he'd been
thrown through a ship's solar sail, exposed to incredible amounts
of radiation and electromagnetic power. The control unit was dead,
the circuitry completely fried. He was dying. There was nothing I
could do to save him... and they wouldn't have allowed me to,
anyway. I thought he was... well they're not supposed to be
aware.

"He was lying
on the bench, blind, in agony, as I discovered. All the other techs
had left for the day. We were going to send him to the furnace the
next day. I was tidying up. Then he spoke. He whispered 'kill me'.
His throat was burnt, you see. He never opened his eyes, and he
died a few minutes later, but I realised then that he was aware."
Tarl shook his head. "It gave me nightmares. I still have
them."

"Then isn't
that a way to free them?” Tassin asked. “Fry the brow band's
circuitry?"

"No. It would
kill them, like it did him."

"So there's no
way...?"

"Your friend
is unique, and possibly has the key to freeing others, if I can
just figure out a way to duplicate what happened to him. The most
amazing thing is the control unit's still active. Can he access its
information?"

"Yes."

"That's
incredible," Tarl said. "On Myon Two I saw hundreds of cybers
brought in, mangled, beaten, burnt, with limbs torn off, their brow
bands all with six red lights, and I never realised the agony they
were in. We were told that their brains had been genetically
engineered to be just an interface and a data storage facility.
That they were, to all intents and purposes, just bodies. The
Cybercorp teachers were utterly convincing. They explained it in
minute detail, with diagrams and images, brain scans and dozens of
flat line readouts. But they knew."

"Who?"

"Research and
development. The ones who design cybers; who test and improve them.
Those bastards know."

"And the
surgeons."

He glanced at
her, raising his brows. "What makes you say that?"

"Because Sabre
told me that once a host broke free of his control unit during the
operation and killed some of the surgeons in a screaming frenzy
before he bled to death."

"I didn't hear
about that. If they did realise, and protested, as I did, they're
dead." He looked pensive. "His cyber interface hooks must have been
faulty, possibly the hooks were not quite in the right place." He
cast Tassin an apologetic glance. "Sorry, old habits die hard."

She shrugged,
picked up a metal instrument and studied it. "What about the people
who cared for the babies for their first year, before the cyber was
fitted? Didn't they notice that the babies were normal?"

"No one looked
after them." Tarl gave a bitter laugh. "Those bastards would have
put a control unit on them at birth, if they could have. As it is,
they're incubated for twelve months, not nine. Once they're born,
they're kept in semi-restraining foam pods, tube fed and stimulated
with lights and noise. No one... cares for them, except the techs
who run the machines, and they don't... They never touch them. Once
the control unit is fitted they're released into a pen, where they
can crawl and interact, their bodily functions regulated by the
control units."

Tassin
swallowed and put the instrument down, glancing at Kole, who leant
against the wall, looking sick.

Tarl went on,
"Myon Two is a high-gravity world, one point seven times normal. It
promotes strong bone and muscle development, which is enhanced by
drugs and hormones."

"Is that why
cybers are small?"

He smiled and
shook his head. "No. They're designed that way, for optimum speed
and agility. Any taller or shorter, and they would be slower.
They're the ultimate killing machines, proven time and again."

Kole
straightened, frowning. "All very interesting, if a bit nauseating,
but I think we should leave this area before Mandure's cybers find
this ship."

"They won't.
We're in Lord Gaylor's territory. Mandure won't dare to cross the
border, and I'm waiting for a shipment to be delivered."

"Where are you
headed?"

"Vygon
One."

Kole nodded.
"Good enough for us."

"What are your
plans?"

"Buy a ship
for Tassin to go back to her home world, which is restricted."

Tassin glanced
around as the cyber wandered in, his hair spiked with moisture.
Tarl watched him like a proud father watches his son take his first
steps. Sabre ignored him and looked at Tassin, his expression
shuttered.

"The
bathroom's free."

She glanced
down at her torn, filthy dress. "I wish I had my clothes. Any
chance we could go to the city and fetch them?"

Tarl shook his
head. "I'm not supposed to be on this planet, but I have some
clothes that should fit you. I filched a few designer outfits from
a shipment I made a while ago, thought they might come in handy to
impress a lady friend."

"Thank you."
She turned to Sabre. "You should get some rest, you must be tired.
I know I am."

Sabre nodded,
and Tarl's face fell, but he showed the trio to cramped, but
comfortable cabins that had been repainted only a decade or so ago,
each with a tiny washing alcove and a comfortable bunk that had
clean sheets on it. After her shower, Tarl brought Tassin a smart
black and grey outfit that comprised a pair of stretchy trousers
and a rather low-cut, long-sleeved top. A pair of functional,
flat-heeled shoes completed it, and she found a shimmering grey
shawl that she could wrap around her hips.

****

Tassin woke
refreshed and dressed in her new clothes before going to Sabre's
cabin next door, finding him still asleep. Leaving him to rest, she
made her way to the galley, where Kole and Tarl sat drinking coffee
and making desultory conversation. Like the cabins, the galley,
with its adjoining dining area, had been renovated at some point in
the not too distant past, and boasted modern equipment, a fake
marble counter top and a fairly new, but cheap chrome and plastic
table and six chairs. The rubber flooring had been patched in the
high traffic areas where the corridors were worn to metal, and
there was even a bunch of dried flowers in a vase at one end of the
counter. Tarl ordered another cup of coffee from the auto-chef for
her, and a few minutes later Sabre entered, yawning.

Tassin smiled
at him. "How are you feeling?"

He pulled a
face, holding his injured arm. "It's not a good idea to lift slabs
of stone with torn ligaments."

Tarl handed
him a cup of coffee. "I can help with that."

"How?"

"I have
supplies of all the drugs I used to use, and all the equipment. I
duplicated them when I had Alpha."

"The crippled
cyber," Tassin said.

"Yes."

"Well, good."
Sabre sipped his coffee. "After breakfast, you can fix me."

His testy tone
made Tassin cast Tarl an apologetic look. "I know you didn’t, but
please don't talk about Sabre as if he's a piece of defective
equipment. He’s a bit touchy about it."

Tarl asked,
"That's one of your problems, isn't it, Sabre?"

"Knowing what
I am isn't a problem."

"Thinking you
are what you're not is."

"How am I
wrong? I don't go to a doctor when I'm injured; I get fixed by a
technician. Could you fix Tassin if she was hurt?"

Tarl shook his
head. "She doesn't have the genetic enhancements that are designed
to work with the drugs. Okay, you're different, and when the cyber
controlled you, you were considered equipment. But you're not
anymore."

"I'm still
part machine."

"But now the
dominant part is human."

"But nothing
else has changed."

Tassin said,
"Perhaps when you get your memories back, this will change."

"Why should
it?"

"Because then
you'll remember the year you spent with me, when you lived as a
man, and were treated as one."

"It isn't just
that year he needs to remember," Tarl said. "If he only remembers
his formative years and training, he has no way of... knowing how
to be a human. All he knows now is his combat training, and the
only human contact he's had, apart from a few weeks with you, is
the techs who trained him."

"They were a
nice bunch," Sabre muttered.

Tassin frowned
at Tarl. "You're sure you can restore all his memories?"

"Yes, I think
I know how he lost them, but I'll have to examine him to make
sure."

"It happened
when the cyber shocked him, didn't it?"

"I doubt it."
Tarl rose and went to the auto-chef panel in the wall, tapping
instructions into the pad beside it. A minute later it chimed, and
he opened the door to take out two bowls of steaming porridge. He
placed them before Tassin and Sabre, then took out two more for
himself and Kole. Tassin blew on a spoonful and tasted it, finding
it sweet and creamy.

"Then how did
it happen?"

"When I know
for sure, I'll tell you."

After they
finished the meal, Tarl put the bowls into an auto-washer and
turned to Sabre. "Would you like to begin now?"

He shrugged.
"Sure, why not? I'd like my elbow fixed first, if you don't
mind."

"No
problem."

They rose and
followed Tarl into the white room with the couch, and he gestured
to it. Sabre climbed onto it and stretched out, looking wary. Tarl
went to a glass cabinet and took out a bottle and syringe, drawing
some white fluid into it. He injected Sabre above the elbow, then
pulled a wheeled trolley covered in strange devices and instruments
from its place against the back wall and parked it beside the
couch. Returning to the collection of paraphernalia at the back of
the room, he moved a squat machine with a jointed arm on it over to
the couch as well. That done, he sat in the swivelling chair and
waited a few minutes before taking hold of the cyber's forearm and
flexing the joint.

"Does it hurt
now?"

"No."

"Good." Tarl
pulled the squat machine closer on its multi-directional wheels to
aim the flat, screen-like device on the end of its jointed arm at
Sabre's elbow. Switching on an eye-level monitor in the machine's
box-shaped base, he studied the picture that appeared on it, and
Tassin moved closer to peer over his shoulder. It showed the bones
of Sabre's elbow, each one lined with glowing barrinium
plating.

Tarl grunted.
"You must be a Wednesday's child. Your plating is perfect."

"Why does that
make me a Wednesday's child?"

"Because
Monday's operations are influenced by the parties the surgeons
indulge in all weekend, and only by Wednesday are they at their
peak performance. By Thursday they're tired, and they start making
mistakes again."

Sabre snorted,
and Tarl took hold of his forearm again, watching the image as he
flexed it. "You've torn one anterior, one posterior ligament, and
an associated tendon. This happened in a fight with another
cyber?"

"That's
right."

Tarl filled
another syringe with blue fluid and injected Sabre's elbow,
watching the needle on the screen. Tassin bit her lip as it probed
deep into the joint, dark fluid oozing from it into the ligaments.
Tarl drew the needle out and flexed the joint again, watching the
image as the liquid seeped from the ligaments. He picked up a round
metal instrument attached to an electric wire.

"You might
feel a little buzz," he warned, placing the end of the instrument
on Sabre's elbow.

Sabre's arm
jerked as Tarl pressed the button, sending a jolt of electricity
into the injured joint, and the cyber frowned.

"What are you
doing?"

"Fixing your
elbow."

"How?"

"I injected
your torn ligaments with tryon forty-two, which reacts with your
cells on a genetic level, speeding up their healing. The
electricity quickens the process, rejuvenating them."

"Wonderful."
Sabre stared at the ceiling.

Tarl shocked
Sabre's elbow four more times, examining the progress in the image
until he was satisfied, although Tassin could see no change.
Pushing the machine aside, he nodded.

"There. When
the bruising fades, it will be as good as new." Tarl gazed down at
him. "You're in a lamentable state, Sabre. Your energy reserves are
severely depleted, and you're underweight." He glanced at Tassin.
"You've been letting him eat ordinary food, haven't you?"