The Cyber Chronicles VI - Warrior Breed (34 page)

"Hold on."
Sabre stepped back until Tarl's back was pressed against the wall,
his eyes on the far side of the chasm. The red light in his mind
flashed more insistently, but he bent his knees like a crouching
cat. He kicked off with all his strength, and as he did the
fragment of floor gave way. He sailed across the gap, his arms
outstretched. His hands hit the edge of the floor, his fingers
clamped onto the metal, and he swung from it. Warriors reached down
to grasp his arms and pull him up, but the heat forced them back
with foul oaths. It burnt Sabre's skin, and the edge of the floor
was hot enough to scorch his hands.

Tarl shouted,
"You can make it on your own. Thanks for trying."

"No!"

Tarl loosened
his hold, preparing to let go of Sabre's neck. The cyber released
his grip, and they fell into the inferno.

"Hold on!"
Sabre yelled, waving his arms to keep his legs under him, and
Tarl's grip tightened again. Flames swept over them, making Tarl
grunt with pain. Sabre closed his eyes as the heat seared him. A
legion of red lights flashed in his mind, and the scanners showed
the remains of the floor far below. A beam flashed past, and
another rose towards him. He grabbed it, but the speed of his fall
and Tarl's weight combined to make it impossible to hold on.
Hanging from a beam in the middle of an inferno was not a terribly
good idea, anyway, but the momentary hold slowed his fall
considerably. Another beam provided a slowing hold as they
plummeted towards the fires below.

Sabre's boots
hit the floor with brutal force and a crunch of breaking bones. His
knees bent to absorb the impact, and he rolled sideways over Tarl,
who grunted as the air was punched from his lungs. Sabre held his
breath in the searing heat and smoke, the scanners and the cyber's
optical relay providing him with sight. Tarl released him,
coughing. Sabre picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

"Leave me, you
bloody idiot!" Tarl shouted.

Sabre ignored
the pain that lanced from his ankles and raced through the flames
towards the nearest wall. As it loomed out of the smoke, he
released Tarl's legs and raised his fists, punching through it as
he hit it. His fists tore holes in the thin metal plates, and he
bent his head so the brow band took the brunt of the impact, hardly
slowing. The metal tore as he hit it, and he broke through,
staggering into a corridor filled with smoke. He ran down it, his
ankles sending agony shooting up his legs. Another wall loomed
ahead, and he smashed through it, reeling into a room clear of
smoke. Several Trykon warriors tended wounded comrades, and looked
up in surprise when Sabre burst through the wall with a screech of
metal, their mouths dropping open. Sabre fell to his knees, dumping
Tarl on the floor as two warriors hurried over to him.

Opening his
eyes, Sabre raised his head. "Get him to the hospital, and bring a
stretcher for me."

"Commander?"
The warriors gaped at him.

"I'd rather
not walk there on two broken ankles, so just do it!" Sabre bowed
his head, leaning forward on his hands with a grimace of pain.

Tarl coughed,
glaring at him. "You're a fucking idiot."

"You're alive,
aren't you? Is that the thanks I get?"

Tarl shook his
head, wiping his watering eyes. "I said you wouldn't make that
jump."

"I swear, when
you get out of hospital, I'm going to beat the crap out of
you."

"I'm looking
forward to it," Tarl said as two warriors gripped his arms and
lifted him to his feet, helping him to stagger from the room.
Another two ran in with a stretcher, and Sabre climbed onto it.

****

Tassin looked
up as a commotion started at the hospital door, alarmed by the
shouts of Sabre's title. Medics dashed past her, and she rose and
followed them, her heart twisting in dismay as she glimpsed Sabre
being carried in on a stretcher. Tarl tottered in between two
warriors, who dumped him on an unoccupied bed and hurried after
Sabre. The crowd around Sabre's stretcher thickened into a wall of
broad, muscular backs, and she stopped beside Tarl.

"What
happened? How badly is he hurt?"

Tarl's face,
neck and arms were reddened, and ugly blisters formed on them.
"He's okay, don't worry. He saved my life."

"What's wrong
with him?"

Tarl shook his
head. "If I hadn't been there, I wouldn't believe it."

Tassin gripped
his jacket and shook him. "Tell me!"

"I was trapped
on a ledge after the explosion -"

"Tell me
what's wrong with him! Is he burnt?"

"No, no he
didn't look burnt." Tarl frowned. "Which is odd, considering he was
in front of me on the way down. He has two broken ankles, that's
all. We fell five decks."

Shock closed
her throat, and she gulped. "How did you survive?"

"He broke my
fall."

She glanced at
the impenetrable wall of backs. "You should be taking care of him,
not them."

"I don't think
they'd let me, and anyway, I'm sure they can manage to put on a
couple of ankle casts." Tarl coughed, wheezing.

She studied
him with a frown. "What's wrong with you?"

"Smoke
inhalation. I'll be okay."

"Tell me what
happened."

By the time
Tarl finished the tale, Tassin was wide eyed and shaking her head
in disbelief. "That's incredible."

"Yeah."

The number of
medics and warriors around Sabre thinned, and she pushed her way to
his side, taking his hand. He opened his eyes and smiled at
her.

"Hi."

"How do you
feel?"

"Woozy. They
gave me something for the pain." He looked down at his feet, which
were encased in plaster to the knees. "It didn't go as
planned."

"You're lucky
to be alive."

"Not luck. I'm
hard to kill."

A warrior
gripped Tassin's arm and pulled her away. "The commander needs to
rest."

Sabre said,
"Leave her alone."

Tassin pulled
up a stool beside Sabre's bed and studied him, unable to find any
sign of burns. He closed his eyes, and she held his hand.

"Why aren't
you burnt like Tarl?"

"Don't
know."

Sensing that
he was slipping into sleep, she settled down to wait, thinking
about how much time she spent at his bedside while he was injured.
He had barely recovered from the last trauma, and now he was hurt
again. He was constantly putting himself in harm’s way, she
reflected, usually to save someone, and she had lost count of how
many times he had saved her life, or how many others he had
rescued. The unfairness of it saddened her, and she blinked away
the tears that stung her eyes. One day, hopefully soon, they would
be safe on Omega Five.

****

Atrel frowned
at the group leader who had just related an unbelievable tale. "So
he has two broken ankles, after falling five decks?"

"Many warriors
witnessed him fall, and we saw him smash through the wall on deck
four."

Atrel shook
his head. "That sounds like pure fiction. And yet I believe you.
That man never ceases to amaze me." He turned to Vior. "When we
reach Ragel Nine, put us into orbit and continue to make repairs.
We'll land when the commander has recovered."

Chapter Twenty One

Tassin put the
plate of food on Sabre's bedside table and sat on the chair,
watching him sleep. Four days had passed since the battle, and he
had been moved to his cabin, which was more comfortable, plus the
hospital beds were needed for badly wounded men and women. Tarl
recovered from his burns next door, and hers were healing well. A
medic came twice a day to administer painkillers, which kept Sabre
in a groggy state, so he slept most of the time. The last dose was
due to wear off soon, and when it did he would need to eat. Tarl
had recommended certain foods that were better for a cyber than
most, and she had piled the plate with synthetic eggs, meat and
beans. She took hold of his hand.

Sabre sighed
and opened his eyes. The medics had stripped him to his shorts, and
the sheet had slipped down to his waist. He pulled it up, and she
smiled.

"I've seen it
before, you know."

He eyed her.
"What?"

"Your
chest."

"Ah. That.
Right, well, I don't want you getting any ideas of taking advantage
of me in my helpless state."

"Helpless?
You?" She snorted.

"Against you I
am. All I can do is run, and that's a little hard with two concrete
boots."

"To say
nothing of the broken ankles inside them."

"Them
too."

She leant
forward and tugged on the sheet. "Such modesty, My Lord. It's so
seductive."

His brows
rose. "Really? You mean if I was brazen it would be less
appealing?"

"No."

"So either way
I'm in trouble."

"Definitely."

"I should ban
you from my room."

She smiled.
"You wouldn't do that."

"No, you'd
make too much trouble."

"I came to
feed you, not seduce you." She picked up the plate.

"Oh, good."
Sabre sat up.

Tassin loaded
a spoon and held it in front of his mouth. "Open wide."

"My feet are
in plaster, not my hands."

Tassin grinned
and handed him the spoon and plate.

"How's Tarl?"
he enquired.

"Recovering
well." She hesitated. "Kernan's dead."

"Yeah, I
thought so. He wasn't doing very well on that synthetic food
anyway. I don't think he'd have survived for too much longer."

She nodded.
"He was very unhappy."

"Yeah."

"The repairs
are almost finished. Atrel says as soon as you're back on your
feet, we can land."

"Good."

The door
chimed, and a warrior medic entered.

Sabre waved
his spoon at him. "I don't need any more of that stuff."

"Yes,
Commander."

The medic
left, and Tassin pondered the peculiar traditions of the Trykons.
There were plenty of non-com medics, but only a warrior medic was
allowed to tend to Sabre, usually a group leader. Non-com medics
were not good enough, apparently. When Sabre finished his food, she
put the plate on the table, sat beside him and leant on his chest,
idly stroking his shoulder.

"I scare you,
don't I?" she murmured.

"You've only
just figured that out?"

"It's a bit
hard to believe."

"You terrify
me."

"Why?"

He rolled his
eyes. "Well, my experience with the opposite sex in precisely zero,
and if that's not bad enough, I can't even defend myself."

She giggled.
"A cyber, afraid of a girl."

"Yeah. And I
don't scare that easy."

"You'll leap
across a burning chasm to save a man you don't even consider a
friend, yet I frighten you."

"Don't make it
sound any more ridiculous than it already is," he said.

"Maybe you
should use some of that bravery to defeat your fear."

"It's not that
easy. I was trained to deal with life-threatening situations, not
girls."

She lowered
her gaze to his chest, her fingers tracing patterns on it. "You
could have been killed trying to save Tarl."

"This is
blackmail, isn't it?"

"No. I just
don’t want to lose you."

Sabre drew her
close and stroked her hair, and Tassin nestled up to him.

****

Two days
later, the medics removed Sabre's casts after x-rays revealed that
the bones were almost knitted, and the barrinium reinforcing was
now sufficient support on its own. His cyber issue camouflage
clothes were burnt beyond repair, and the Trykons provided a pair
of well-fitting dark grey trousers made from stretch material, a
matching jacket and black shirt. Gold embroidery decorated the
shoulders and sleeves of the waist-length jacket, and a spray of
golden feathers was embroidered on the right side of the chest. He
limped to the bridge, where Atrel greeted him with a smile.

"Commander.
It's good to see you on your feet again."

"It's good to
be walking again. How go the repairs?"

"We've done
all we can. The ship is able to land."

"Good." Sabre
studied the ugly brown planet in the screens. "Let's do it then. I
want us within weapons' range of that outpost, and able to target
it with the main lasers."

"You're going
to threaten them?"

"Spraylanders
are a tough, unforgiving bunch of guys who believe in kicking a man
when he's down, preferably until he's dead. They give no quarter
and only respect force. They also have no honour. They've colonised
some of the nastiest, barely habitable worlds that no one else
wants, and hate everyone in general. They're descended from a penal
colony that revolted and gained its freedom, and their bitterness
runs deep. They won't help us unless we make them."

Atrel nodded
and relayed the orders. Thrusters fired, and the ship broke orbit
and sank towards the planet. Landing a spaceship the size of a
destroyer was a tricky procedure fraught with danger, which was why
they rarely did. Within minutes the screens filled with fire, and
the ship shuddered as it fell through the atmosphere.

Fortunately,
Nemesis was designed to land, but she was one of the largest to
attempt it, and her entry into an atmosphere would cause a certain
amount of unavoidable damage. To those on the ground, she would
look like a meteorite burning up in the atmosphere. Vast tracts of
strip mining operations became visible as the ship neared the
surface, square wounds surrounded by rocky scabs, massive automated
mining machines kicking up clouds of dust. The collection of
ramshackle buildings that was the Spraylanders' outpost passed
below, and the antigravity kicked in, the generators' hum rising to
a howl as the ship descended. As it neared the ground, it turned to
face the outpost, just visible in the distance. The antigravity
generators' howl deepened as the ship settled on its belly, four
stabilising legs whining out. The ship was too large for the legs
to support; they were merely to keep it upright.