The Cyber Chronicles VI - Warrior Breed (14 page)

"Just as well
he's so small. A Trykon man would split her in two."

The officers
chuckled, and Atrel smirked. Tassin opened her mouth to retort, but
Tarl tugged on her arm and shook his head.

"Don't start
anything with her."

Diarda eyed
Tassin for a moment longer, looking superior, and then turned to
Atrel. "I heard there was amusement to be had in here."

"More than you
bargained for, I'll wager. Sabre has challenged for command."

Diarda
giggled. "You jest."

"No."

"I could snap
him in half."

"He has
already defeated three warriors."

Diarda looked
coquettish as she approached Atrel. "Then I shall enjoy watching
you kill him."

"You know full
well that a command challenge is not to the death."

"A pity, in
this case."

"Since none of
my officers will accept his challenge, even if I beat him he will
become first lieutenant."

The blonde
glanced sharply at Rodar, and her eyes glittered. "Have you turned
coward, Rodar?"

"I'm not a
fool, is all," the first lieutenant said.

Diarda glared at Atrel. "
If
you beat him? He's a runt! I'll wager that under
that dirty rag he wears, his chest is thinner than a child's. He
has almost no scars, and few enhancements. How can such a weakling
even dare to challenge you?"

Atrel nodded.
"And yet you haven't seen him fight. Neither have I, for that
matter, but, from what I've heard, the reason for his lack of scars
is that he's seldom struck."

Diarda frowned
at Sabre and strolled over to stand in front of him. She was at
least twelve centimetres taller, but Sabre refused to look up at
her. Diarda took hold of the front of his vest, preparing to rip it
off and expose his childish chest, Tassin assumed. Before she
could, he gripped her wrist and raised his eyes to meet hers.

"I'd prefer
you didn't do that."

Diarda tried
to tug her hand free, but found that her wrist was gripped in a
vice-like hold. Her nostrils flared, and Atrel watched the
encounter with narrowed eyes. Clearly Sabre's strength surprised
her, and he released her arm when she let go of his vest. Diarda
stepped back, rubbing her wrist, then swung away, frowning.

"I shall enjoy
watching you beat him, Atrel."

The commander
nodded, his hand caressing the hilt of the sword at his side. "Do
you wish to tend to your wound before we begin?"

The cyber
glanced at his bleeding knuckles and shook his head. "Let's get on
with it."

"Choose a
weapon."

"I choose to
fight unarmed."

Diarda said,
"He mocks you, Atrel."

"A foolish
decision, little man," Atrel said. "What makes you so bold?"

Sabre sighed.
"If I explain what I am, and convince you that you have no chance
of beating me, will you step aside without a fight?"

"No."

"Then we're
just wasting time."

Atrel drew his
sword with a hiss of steel and stepped forward, holding it in a
manner that spoke volumes of his years of experience with the
weapon. Sabre stood relaxed, waiting for the attack, and Atrel
smiled, shaking his head.

"You're the
challenger. It's you who must attack."

Sabre tilted
his head, as if re-assessing the situation, then circled the
commander. Atrel turned to face him, the sword held ready. Diarda
murmured something to the blonde woman that made her giggle, and
Tassin shot them a glare. Sabre feinted left, then attacked right,
throwing Atrel off balance. The commander reacted swiftly, however,
and his sword hissed past a hair's breadth from Sabre's shoulder as
the cyber skipped aside.

In a cyber’s
typical fighting style, Sabre continued to move with fluid grace. A
normal man might have paused to consider his next move or re-think
his strategy. He spun under the next slash of Atrel's weapon and
dropped backwards, kicking upwards with a foot that struck Atrel's
sword arm a glancing blow. Atrel leapt at him, his kick missing as
Sabre rolled aside. He regained his feet with the peculiar flip
that brought him upright in a smooth motion. Diving into a forward
roll, Sabre kicked Atrel's legs out from under him and sent him
sprawling with a crash. Atrel rolled away as Sabre aimed a kick at
his head, his sword scraping on the floor and almost becoming
tangled in his arms.

The big man
cursed and scrambled up, blood oozing from a self-inflicted cut on
his chest. Sabre regained his feet with cat-like grace and leapt at
Atrel in a spinning kick. His foot hit the commander in the side of
the neck and sent him staggering sideways. He turned as Sabre
attacked again, raised his weapon and slashed a little wildly with
it.

Sabre ducked
under it and punched him in the jaw, snapping his head sideways
with a spray of blood. Atrel sprawled again with a clatter of
armour, dropped the useless sword and rolled away as Sabre went
after him. The cyber gave him no chance to recover, aiming another
kick at his head. Atrel ducked and tried to grab Sabre's foot, but
missed. Snatching a long dagger from his thigh sheath, Atrel
slashed at Sabre's legs, forcing him to jump back while the
commander leapt up.

Sabre dived
into a forward handspring, bounced up in front of Atrel and punched
him in the solar plexus with both fists, sending him crashing to
the floor again. Pirouetting like a ballet dancer, Sabre drove his
foot into Atrel's chest, and the dull pop of cracking ribs made
Tassin wince. Atrel writhed and growled, flailing with the dagger
as he tried to suck in air. Sabre gazed down at his fallen
opponent.

"Do you
yield?"

Atrel glared
at him with flinty eyes, his face pale and drawn, still brandishing
the useless dagger. Sweat beaded his brow and veins stood out on
his neck. Sabre casually kicked the dagger from Atrel's fist,
sending it clattering into the wall.

"Do you
yield?"

The commander
grimaced, and then his head jerked in a stiff nod. Sabre bent and
offered Atrel his hand, pulling him to his feet. Atrel swayed and
clasped his ribs.

"No man can
beat you, stranger. Not even our clan leader, Targon himself, I'll
wager."

Sabre nodded.
"A safe bet."

"I will not
yield to him!" Diarda shouted, drawing all eyes to her.

Sabre said,
"Ah yes, to the winner go the spoils."

"I will die
before I lie with a genetically inferior midget!"

"I don't want
you, so go peddle your wares to someone who gives a shit," Sabre
said.

"Ha! Of course
you would not dare to try to satisfy a Trykon woman, small as you
are." Diarda made a rude gesture, and some of the officers
smirked.

Sabre's eyes
flitted over them, and their sneers vanished. "I don't find women
who look like men with breasts attractive, so you need not worry
that I would ever be tempted by one such as you."

The blood
drained from Diarda's cheeks, and she glanced at Tassin, who was
unable to prevent her triumphant smile.

Diarda's brow
furrowed. "Insolent non-com bitch! You dare to laugh at me?" She
yanked two daggers from her belt and strode towards Tassin. "You
are as dirt under my feet! I'll teach you to mock me!"

Tarl reached
for his laser as the huge woman bore down on him, but looked unsure
of whether he would die for drawing it, and cast Sabre a desperate
look. Tassin raised her chin and thrust him aside, pulled her
dagger from her belt and flourished it in a manner that showed that
she knew how to use it. Sabre recovered from his surprise and
reached her in a couple of bounds, imposing himself between them.
Diarda stopped and glowered down at him, her nostrils flared and
bosom heaving.

"Stand aside.
This is women's business."

"She's a
non-combatant, and if you touch her I'll make you sorry you were
ever born."

"Yes, she's a
doxy, a slave, and, as such, subject to my command. Since you've
become a member of our clan, therefore so have your servants, so
they're now subject to our laws. She's insulted me, the commander
of the women, she must be punished."

"You were only
commander of the women as long as you were the spouse of the ship's
commander, but you're no longer that, are you?" Sabre glanced at
Atrel. "I'm uncertain of your laws on this matter. What status does
Diarda have now?"

Atrel
shrugged. "I'm now first lieutenant, and, since you reject her, she
remains my spouse, and since you have no spouse, she remains
commander of the women."

Diarda’s lips
twisted in a smug smile. "Stand aside."

Sabre shook
his head. "She's under my protection."

Tassin tried
to push past him, furious. "I'm not a doxy or a slave you
muscle-bound slut! You don't scare me!"

Sabre grabbed
her as she went for Diarda, trying to pluck the dagger from her
flailing hand. Tassin shoved him away.

"Tassin!"

Diarda's
daggers flashed as she raised them in a scything motion, aimed at
Tassin's face. Sabre thrust his arm between them, and got both
daggers impaled in it for his efforts. Diarda jerked them free with
a snarl, slashing at Tassin again, even as the Queen pressed home
her attack. Sabre swore and gave Diarda a shove that sent her
staggering back to sit down with a thud, grabbing Tassin again when
she would have gone after her. Tassin growled and tried to jerk
free, but this time his grip was too strong for her.

"Let me go!"
she shouted.

"No! Are you
nuts? She's twice your size."

"I am not a
non-combatant! I've been trained -"

"Yeah, yeah, I
remember. You're a warrior bloody queen, but you're not fighting
her."

Tassin said,
"I won't take orders from her, or insults!"

"You'll do as
I damn well say."

She tried to
wrench free, but only succeeded in pulling herself against his
chest. "Let me go, damn you!"

"Don't be an
idiot."

Tassin stamped
on his foot, and Sabre grunted in surprise and pain, then ducked,
pushing her out of harm's way as Diarda attacked again. Her daggers
flashed past his cheek as she tried to slash Tassin's face. Tarl
fielded the irate Queen and Sabre turned to deal with Diarda,
grabbing her wrists. Diarda's face twisted with fury that rivalled
Tassin's, and she, too, tried to wrench free, possessing the size
and strength to make him stagger. She jerked up a knee, but he
twisted aside, taking the blow on his hip. He released one of her
wrists and slapped her, making her reel back with a cry of pain.
Tarl cursed, and Sabre swung around in time to capture Tassin as
she broke free and tried to dart past him. Pulling her into a firm
embrace, he pinned her arms and frowned down at her flushed,
furious face.

"Stop it now,
before you get hurt."

"I can take
care of myself. Let me go!"

"You can't
fight her; she's twice your size."

"I don't care!
She insulted me, and you." She grimaced. "And you're hurting my
ribs."

Sabre eased
his hold. "Sorry. You're being foolish, now stop it."

"Tell them the
truth, then. Tell them I'm not your doxy!"

"You're a
non-combatant. You can't be anything else."

"You're the
commander of this ship now. You make the rules. And I'm not a
non-combatant, I'm a -"

"If you claim
to be a warrior, you'll have to prove it, and that I won't allow.
You'll get hurt."

"What is she
then?" Diarda asked, and Sabre glanced around to find her standing
close by, nursing her cheek.

Sabre released
Tassin, keeping a hold on her arm. He turned to face Diarda. "She's
not a warrior, for all that she would wish to be one. But she's not
a doxy either, mine or anyone else's. Where we come from, status
does not rely on combat."

"You're one of
us now. Only our laws apply."

"Then what do
your laws say about a non-combatant who is owed a great debt by a
high-ranking warrior?"

Diarda
frowned, glancing at Atrel. "Such a thing could never happen."

"But it has,”
Atrel said. “Commander Trivian was pulled from his burning ship by
a non-com. She became his ward. No one could touch her without his
permission."

Diarda faced
Sabre again. "So you claim her as your ward?"

"Yes. All of
them."

"You owe all
three of them great debts?"

"More or
less."

She turned her
head and spat. "You must be truly inept to be so indebted to such
pathetic non-coms."

Sabre
shrugged. "I don't care what you think. No one touches any of
them."

Diarda
sheathed her daggers and swung away. "Accidents happen to the weak
in battle."

He frowned.
"Then I'm ordering all of you to protect them. If anything happens
to them, you will all be punished."

She turned to
face him again, her expression incredulous. "You're ordering
warriors to protect these feeble creatures? You would sacrifice
fighters for lowly, useless non-coms?"

"Yes."

"You are then
a truly inept commander." Her eyes flitted over him. "And I see no
golden torc about your neck."

Sabre held out
his hand to Atrel. "Give me that damn thing."

The former
commander pulled off the golden collar and handed it over, and
Sabre placed it around his neck while Diarda watched, her lips
curled with contempt.

Sabre glared
at her. "Satisfied?"

"Disgusted."

"Even
better."

Diarda snorted
and strode out, followed by the other women. The tension eased at
their departure, and Atrel turned to Sabre.

"What are your
orders?"

Sabre looked
down at his bloody arm, considering. "How much fuel do we
have?"

"Enough for
seven days of combat manoeuvring. Food and water supplies for the
same length of time."