The Cyber Chronicles V - Overlord (27 page)

"Well, it's a
pity the bribery idea didn't work," Tassin said.

"And now we
know how they come to Endroad with impunity," Tarl added.

"It's clearly
one of their safe houses. But how do they stop the local pirates
attacking them?"

"Why don't we
ask her?" Tarl nodded at a robust, strong-featured woman clad in
the Sisters' shapeless grey uniform, who strode towards them.

"Good
idea."

The woman
stopped beside Tassin. "Welcome. There's a transport waiting to
take you to the city."

"Thank you. May
I ask how you protect yourselves here?"

"We have four
like him." She nodded at Sabre.

"Four cybers?
How can you afford them?"

The woman
smiled. "We're not poor. Many of the victims we rescue are the
daughters or wives of wealthy men, and they bring money. But we
didn't pay for the cybers. They were gifts, the bodyguards of those
women."

"Surely a woman
with a cyber doesn't need to flee to a place of safety?"

"They do when
their fathers or husbands hold their cybers' overrides."

"Right. Any
chance of purchasing passage to another world from you, or a
ship?"

"No." The woman
looked sympathetic. "You may stay with us, but they must
leave."

"But you allow
cybers amongst you."

"Only those
that belong to us."

"And there's
still me," Tarl said.

Tassin shot him
an exasperated look. "You could organise us a ship out of here on
your own."

"Not
likely."

The woman
gestured towards the imposing, fortress-like building behind her.
"Your transport is waiting."

They headed for
it, Tassin pulling her coat closer to ward off the cold wind.

The woman fell
into step beside her. "If you need our help, one of our cybers is
stationed in the city for three hours each day, from noon. Just
tell him that you need help, and he'll bring you here. Just you,
though."

"Thank you,
I'll keep it in mind."

They entered a
sizeable courtyard, where a sleek air-car waited. A middle-aged
cyber with a scarred face sat at the controls. Tassin was glad to
climb into the warm interior, and the woman waved as the car
speeded away.

The city turned
out to be more of a ship graveyard, its buildings interspersed with
the gutted wrecks of star ships that now served as markets and
housing for the poor. The cyber dropped them off outside a dimly
lighted wreck, where they rented a cramped cabin for the night.

Tassin gazed
around at the disreputable establishment, her heart sinking. This
was the fourth they had tried, and she was becoming despondent.
Like the others, it was the converted dining hall of a wrecked star
ship, its grey walls smudged with dirt and the worn furniture
sagging from age and abuse. Tinny, distorted music blared from a
battered stereo bolted to the wall above the bar, almost drowning
out the mutter of male voices. The stench of unwashed bodies
thickened the air, mixed with cloying perfume and an underlying
pungent odour that Tassin assumed was rot.

Men sat and
drank glasses of brightly coloured alcohol around battered plastic
tables, enjoying the attentions of scantily clad women. One girl
provided entertainment on a tiny stage made out of old plastic
crates, where she danced naked around a pole under a flickering
spotlight. Tassin averted her eyes, her face growing warm. Sabre
cast the girl a cursory glance, but Tarl almost fell over a table
in his fascination. The rest of the room was gloomy, since most of
the original lighting panels no longer worked. Jerry-rigged light
poles had been brought in to replace them, but they were old and
dim.

No sunlight
reached the barroom, which had once been deep in the bowels of the
gutted star liner. One side of the ship had been disassembled,
probably to be sold as scrap, one of Endroad Four's main sources of
income. The street was now just outside the exit, but a functioning
door prevented sunlight from entering it. In other wrecks, the
barrooms were located deep within the rotting hulks, and they had
been forced to traverse many dirty corridors to reach them.

The overriding
impression Tassin had of Endroad Four was dirt. The men all seemed
to be caked in it, the wrecked ships were half buried in it, and
the rank red sand blew into every nook and cranny. The heat added
to the problem by making everyone sweat, which provided the glue to
which the dust clung, and whatever bacteria lived on Endroad Four
made particularly pungent body odour. To make matters worse, the
dearth of water meant that baths were few and hard to come by.
Tassin had paid extra for a bowl of water that morning, so she
could wash. She had shared it with Sabre and Tarl, for it had cost
almost as much as a cooked meal. She did not want to know what
constituted meat on this desolate planet, and had not asked what
kind had arrived on their plates for dinner the previous night.

Tarl elbowed
his way to the bar counter, which had the dubious privilege of
being built from hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of empty liquor
bottles glued together under a shiny top that had once been a
ship's solar wing vane. Men growled and turned to challenge him
until they glanced past him at Sabre and thought better of it.
Although he had lost his armour, he was armed and clad in his
combat clothes. Tassin stayed close behind Tarl, her hand on the
hilt of the dagger in her belt.

Reaching the
counter, Tarl banged on it to summon the bartender and ordered a
drink, which, they had discovered in previous establishments,
seemed to be requisite before he could ask questions. The fat man
behind the bar poured a pale amber beverage, and Tarl paid, sipped
it and grimaced.

"We're looking
for passage," he stated, loud enough for those around him to
hear.

The bartender
turned his head and spat. "You could try Kernan."

"Where would I
find Kernan?"

"Down the end
of the bar."

Tarl headed for
the indicated end of the bar, Tassin following. A sallow-skinned
man with a shaven head and a badly scarred face looked up when they
approached him, his brown eyes flicking past them to Sabre. He had
once been handsome, but the pale scar that ran down one side of his
face, dissecting an eye and ending at his chin, ruined his looks.
He wore a faded orange jump suit, and blurred, serpentine tattoos
emerged from his collar to writhe up his neck.

"Are you
Kernan?" Tarl asked.

He nodded,
still studying Sabre. "I am."

"We want to
purchase passage."

"Where to?"

"Anywhere
civilised. Toron Seven?"

Kernan jerked
his chin at Sabre. "He belong to you?"

"To the
lady."

Kernan turned
to Tassin. "Toron Seven, huh? That's a fair journey."

"How much do
you want?"

"I want him,"
Kernan's eyes flicked to Sabre again.

"Not a
chance."

"His services,
for a few hours."

Tassin glanced
at Sabre. "Maybe we can come to an agreement. What do you need him
for?"

Kernan looked
down at his drink, frowning. "My shipment of medical supplies was
stolen by sand runners; I want it back."

"What are sand
runners?"

"They're a
bunch of idiots on air-bikes, but they're dangerous."

"What kind of
ship do you have?"

"A junk
freighter, but she'll get you to Toron."

"How many of
these sand runners are there?"

"About
thirty."

Tassin started
to shake her head, but Tarl took her arm and tugged her away,
saying over his shoulder, "We'll discuss it."

As soon as they
were out of earshot, she frowned at him. "Sabre's not taking on
thirty men."

"He won't have
to if he steals the supplies back at night when these sand runners
are asleep."

"If it was that
easy, Kernan would have done it already."

"He doesn't
have scanners. Cybers are very good at sneaking around."

"Does anyone
care to hear my opinion?" Sabre asked.

Tassin turned
to him. "Of course."

"He's
lying."

"About
everything?"

"Pretty much.
He might have a ship, but he doesn't have a shipment of medical
supplies."

Tarl swore.
"This is the closest we've come to finding a ship."

"So we keep
looking," Tassin said. "This is only the first day. It could take
weeks."

"We're not
going to survive weeks on this planet, even with Sabre."

"What do you
suggest; we take this deal, even if there's a good chance it's a
trap?" she asked.

"Maybe these
sand runners did steal something,” Tarl said, “and he's lying about
what it is for some reason."

Sabre nodded.
"Possibly, but it could also be a trap."

"So we keep
looking. Let's go." Tassin headed for the exit, but as she walked
out into the dusty street with its looming, corroded hulks, Kernan
overtook her, stepping into her path.

"Hey, what
about our deal?"

"No deal."

"Just like
that? You're not going to find another ship, you know."

"We'll take our
chances," she said.

"Why won't you
take the deal?"

"You lied."

Kernan glanced
past her at Sabre. "So, you asked your cyber. Good thinking."

"In a shithole
like this, it's just common sense." She went to brush past him, and
he put a hand on her arm.

Sabre stepped
forward, and Kernan released her and raised his hands in an
appeasing gesture. "Okay, okay, my mistake. Look, lady, I do need
your help. Fine, it's not medical supplies, it's recreational
drugs."

"Why did you
lie?"

He shrugged.
"To make you more sympathetic, I guess."

"He's still
lying," Sabre said.

Kernan glared
at him. "Okay, fine. They didn’t steal it, I bartered it to
them."

Sabre tilted
his head, the brow band flashing. "Now he's so agitated it's
impossible to tell."

Tassin shook
her head. "It's too dangerous, anyway. No deal."

"I'll help, and
I have a couple of men."

"Against thirty
armed thugs? They're armed, right?"

"Yeah, but only
with old-style projectile weapons."

"What are the
drugs worth?" she asked.

"About a
hundred thousand."

"I'll pay you
that for passage."

Kernan cocked a
brow. "You have that much cash on you?"

"No," Tarl
said. "It's stashed."

"Right." Kernan
glanced around, then stepped closer to Tassin, keeping his hands
raised for Sabre's benefit. "Look, I didn't want to mention this,
but I bartered the drugs for my girl, and they kept them both. They
kidnapped her yesterday. They'll use her for sport, then kill her.
She only has a day or two before that happens. God only knows what
she's going through now."

Tassin glanced
at Sabre, who nodded, and she faced Kernan again. "That's terrible,
but, like I said, it's too dangerous."

"For god's
sake, lady!"

"Show us your
ship," Tarl said.

Kernan scowled
and gestured at Sabre. "You think I'm going to let him near my
ship? How stupid do you think I am?"

"There has to
be a certain amount of trust here, or there's no deal. Show us your
ship."

Kernan slumped.
"Fine, follow me."

Tassin grabbed
Tarl's arm as he followed Kernan. "How do we know this isn't a
trap?"

"If it was,
Sabre would have said so."

She looked at
the cyber, who shrugged. "He's still agitated, but I don't think
he's lying."

Tarl shrugged
off Tassin's hand and set off after Kernan, who waited a short
distance away. He led them along the twisted roads that wound
between shabby stone buildings and the remains of ancient star
ships to the outskirts of the ramshackle city, where several space
craft were parked on a stretch of concrete. A pink sun blazed down
from a cloudless copper sky, making the flat horizon shimmer in a
heat haze and sweat pop out on Tassin's brow. Kernan headed for a
rusty freighter, stopped in its shade and waved a hand at it.

"Here she
is."

Sabre studied
it. "A Pulsar class 2-E pulse drive short distance cargo vessel.
One hundred and thirty-four years old, obsolete since thirty
fifty-three. One engine has significant metal fatigue in the outer
casing. Fuel tanks at half."

Kernan nodded,
frowning at him. "She'll get us to Toron."

"In a
week."

"I didn't know
you were in a hurry."

Tarl shook his
head. "A week suits us fine; fighting these sand runners
doesn't."

"That's the
deal."

A hatch in the
ship's belly swung open with a squeak, and a red-haired man with a
narrow, freckled face emerged, surveying them with sharp green
eyes. He wore an oil-stained orange jump suit, and wiped his grimy
hands on a filthy cloth.

"What's up,
Captain?" He spotted Sabre and smiled. "You found help to get Trina
back?"

"We're still
negotiating."

"What do they
want?"

"Passage to
Toron."

"Well, hell,
that's easy."

Kernan shook
his head. "The lady's afraid her cyber will get hurt."

The red-haired
man turned to Tassin. "That's what he's designed for, Miss. He can
handle it, don't worry."

Tassin asked
Kernan, "Would these sand runners trade for your girl?"

"Sure, but
they’ll just keep whatever we offer them, and Trina, too. That’s
how they got the drugs. When I offered a ransom, they named a
ridiculous amount."

"How much?"

"A million. I'd
pay it, but I don't have it."

Tassin
considered for a moment. "What about something they couldn’t
steal?"

"Like
what?"

She nodded at
Sabre. "Him."

"You'd trade
him for my girl?"