The Cyber Chronicles VII - Sabre (8 page)

Fairen
gestured to his troops, who parted to let them through. Sabre
spotted Tarl in the background and detoured towards him. The
technician smiled, looking a little nervous. His eyes flicked up to
the brow band before meeting Sabre's gaze.

"Good to see
you're okay, bud."

"Tarl, old
bud, nice of you to come to my rescue."

Sabre gave him
a thump on the back that sent him staggering into the wall, and
Tarl cursed, rubbing his smarting spine. He glared at Sabre as the
cyber followed Fairen, and Tassin grinned at him.

"The joys of
being a cyber's friend, hey Tarl?"

"He does it
just to piss me off."

"Of course he
does. It's his idea of revenge."

"For
what?"

She shrugged.
"For being a cyber technician, I suspect."

Tarl groaned,
and she trotted to catch up with Sabre, slipping her hand into
his.

Chapter Five

Tarl was
waiting for Sabre when he emerged from the shower with a towel
draped around his neck and another wrapped around his hips. The
suite Fairen had assigned to him was sumptuous, comprising a
massive lounge, bedroom and bathroom that would have put a
planetary palace to shame. Deep crimson carpet cushioned his feet,
and the bathroom fixtures were gold, as was the frame of the
crystal-topped coffee table in the lounge. Recessed lighting cast a
warm pink glow on pale rose walls and white leather sofas.
Cloth-of-gold curtains framed the oval screens, which gave a view
of deep space. Tassin was housed in the adjoining suite, and had
gone there when he had told her he was going to have a shower. The
technician looked determined.

Sabre eyed
him. "What do you want?"

"To see your
injuries."

Sabre went
over to the velvet-covered four-poster bed, where his clothes were
laid out. "I suppose you also want my bio-status and a systems
check?"

"No, just to
check your injuries."

"There's
nothing you can do. They're just burns."

"Then they
need ointment, but first I need to see how bad they are." He
approached the cyber, who kept his back turned and picked up his
vest. Tarl added, "Hey, I'm only trying to help, okay? Fairen did
his bit and Tassin did hers. This is what I do."

Sabre looked
down at the vest. "So you consider yourself part of the support
team, huh? In the field of technical expertise, I suppose?"

"No, I'm your
friend."

Sabre dropped
the vest and raised his head, staring at the far wall. "Why do you
think I need to be constantly reminded of that? Do you think I'm so
stupid I've forgotten your claim of friendship?"

"It's not a
claim, it's a fact, and I only remind you of it when you spout that
bitter crap."

Sabre turned
to face him. "Bitter? Is that what I am?"

"Amongst other
things. I understand, but it's about time you got over it. I've
proven time and time again that I want to help, and what I once was
has nothing to do with what I am now."

"No, you're
still a cyber tech. You always will be. But hey, you're my bud, and
I shouldn't compare you to the sadistic bastard who did this to me
on the enforcer ship, should I?"

Tarl shook his
head, looking wary. "No, you shouldn't. What did he do?"

Sabre pulled
the towel off his neck, revealing the red marks on his chest.

Tarl stepped
closer, frowning. "Laser burns. Why did they do this?"

"To test my
new immunity to fire. He found it quite fascinating, and gave
demonstrations. I'm surprised he didn't sell tickets."

"Why don't you
ask Fairen if you can decide his punishment?"

"I think
Fairen is probably better at meting out justice."

Tarl examined
the burns. "Clearly you're not immune to fire. Two of these are
third degree."

"It took six
seconds for a full power laser beam to do that." Sabre pointed to
one of the red marks. "This was three seconds. This one was
five."

"What were you
doing while this was happening?"

"Pretending to
be under cyber control."

Tarl grimaced.
"So that's why the lights on the brow band indicate that it's in
control again."

"Do they? I
guess I forgot to tell it to return to the correct
configuration."

Sabre glanced
inwards at the cyber's information and commanded it. From Tarl's
expression, he knew that the lights on the control unit flashed and
turned red, save for a few green ones, as it had been before.

Tarl nodded.
"I'll fetch ointment and dressings for those." He swung away and
headed for the door.

"Tarl."

The technician
stopped, his shoulders hunched, and turned. "Yeah?"

"Did you ever
do anything like this?"

"God, no. I
was in repairs, not research and development." He hesitated,
frowning at the floor. "The things I did were bad enough, but they
were done to heal injured cybers, and I didn't know it hurt
them."

"Do you know a
man called Grundel?"

"Yeah, he was
in research and development. Rude bastard. I never liked him. Was
he...?"

"Yeah."

Tarl headed
for the door again. "I'll get the ointment."

Sabre donned
his cyber issue trousers and boots while he was alone, then settled
on the couch in the lounge to wait for Tarl to return. The
technician dumped his bag on the coffee table and took out a tube
of ointment and two dressings he had evidently made for the worst
burns. Sabre stood up so he could smear the ointment on, and Tarl
concentrated on the task, avoiding the cyber's gaze.

"Do you want a
painkiller?" he enquired.

"No." Sabre
cocked his head. “I could do this perfectly well myself, you
know.”

Tarl nodded.
“I know. I want to be useful, okay?”

“
Performing a task I can do myself isn’t being useful. More
like desperate for something to do.”

“
Yeah, well, I’ve made it my mission to look after you. This
time it’s just burns, next time it could be something you can’t do
yourself, and there might not be medics around. I’m sure you don’t
want Tassin to have to do it, do you?”

“
No. She didn’t enjoy it when she had to do it on Omega
Five.”

A short
silence fell, and then Tarl asked, "Why do you still wear these
clothes? I would have thought you'd hate them."

Sabre
shrugged. "They're comfortable, tough and functional."

"Don't they
remind you of what you were?"

"No more so
than the scars, or the brow band. It's not something that's easily
forgotten."

"No, but I'd
have thought you'd want less reminders, not more."

"When I can
get rid of the scars and the brow band, I'll stop wearing the
clothes."

Tarl stuck a
dressing onto one of the third-degree burns. "I think Tassin will
want you to wear something different when you get back to Omega
Five."

"The last time
she dressed me up in fancy clothes, I split the trousers."

"That must
have been fun." Tarl chuckled.

"It was fairly
embarrassing."

Tarl stuck the
second dressing on. "What else did Grundel do to you?"

"Why do you
want to know?"

"I want to pay
him a visit, and I'd like to know how badly to beat him."

Sabre smiled
and raised his brows. "I'd like to see that."

"You're
invited."

Sabre looked
down and fingered the dressings. "He was trying to figure out how
the shiny girls gave me control of the cyber unit. He ran a bunch
of tests while I was paralysed, then he boosted the control unit's
power and tried to shock me into submission so the cyber could take
control again."

Tarl sprayed a
layer of plastic skin over the second-degree burns and tossed the
can back into his bag. "That should do it."

He turned
away, but Sabre caught his shoulder and yanked him back. "What are
you feeling right now?"

Tarl frowned.
"Angry."

"Why?"

"Because of
what that bastard did to you."

"You hide it
well,” Sabre said. “That's the sort of thing I'd expect from
Tassin, not you."

"Tassin loves
you... and so do I."

Tarl’s bald
statement surprised Sabre, who tilted his head with a smile.

"Don't get me
wrong,” Tarl added, “I'm talking about brotherly love, bud. Good
friends feel it too. It's just different."

"I'm glad to
hear it. So I should feel it for you as well?"

"I'd like you
to, but it's not... something I'd expect from you. Not yet, anyway.
I'd say it's probably a little harder for you."

Sabre nodded,
releasing him. "I'm not sure how I feel about you. Sometimes I
think I still hate you."

"You're
conflicted. That's normal. I represent all that you hate, yet I'm
your friend."

"Do you think
my feelings are real, or imaginary?"

"Oh, they're
real," Tarl assured him. "Did they tell you that you weren't
capable of true emotions?"

"Yeah."

"They're lying
bastards. I hope Fairen condemns the whole lot of them."

Sabre picked
up his vest and pulled it on. "It wasn't Grundel who told me that,
it was his commander. Grundel didn't want to talk to me at
all."

"No, he
wouldn't.”

The cyber
looked Tarl up and down, amused by the prospect of the
mild-tempered, middle-aged tech trying to beat someone up. It
should prove to be entertaining, he thought, and he was curious to
see it. "Come on, let's go and see him."

"We're
supposed to meet Fairen for drinks in his suite."

Sabre headed
for the door. "This won't take long."

It took almost
half an hour of tramping along apparently endless stretches of
black, velvet-lined corridors and two trips in high-speed lifts
into the bowels of the ship to find the place where Fairen kept his
prisoners. The Scorpion Ship was extremely well maintained, Sabre
noted, and its interior bore no sign of wear and tear, despite its
age. That was not really surprising, with its population of over a
hundred and fifty thousand, quite a few of whom, he guessed, worked
on maintenance crews. The two black and red-uniformed guards
outside the confinement area eyed Tarl and Sabre when they arrived,
having found their way through the massive ship with directions
from various crewmen.

"We want to
see the prisoners," Tarl said.

"Do you have
Overlord Fairen's permission?" one guard asked.

Tarl glanced
at Sabre. "He'll give it."

"But he must
be consulted."

"Then do
it."

The guard went
over to a communications link on the wall, keyed it and spoke into
it. A few minutes passed before it beeped, and he listened to the
reply.

He faced them
once more. "Overlord Fairen gives his permission, but he will be
joining you. You must wait."

Sabre smiled.
"He doesn't like to miss anything, does he?"

Ten minutes
later, Fairen arrived, accompanied by Commander Shrain, Cyber Two
and four soldiers. The guards bowed low, as did Tarl.

Fairen's vivid
eyes sparkled with excitement, and he cast Sabre an accusing look.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to confront your
tormentors?"

"It wasn't my
idea. Tarl wants a word with the technician."

Fairen looked
at Tarl. "Just to talk to him?"

"No."

"Ah. Good,
let's go in." Fairen donned his veiled hood and led them past the
sentries into a long corridor lined with glass-fronted cells, where
another guard patrolled. He stepped aside and bowed as Fairen swept
past, and the Overlord led them to a cell at the far end of the
passage. Sabre recognised Commander Barrin, Grundel, and the two
technicians who had been in the examination room. The other three
were strangers. The door slid aside at Fairen's gesture, and Tarl
entered the cell, Sabre following. Grundel, who sat on the bench at
the back of the room, stood up, eyeing Sabre with deep unease.

Tarl
approached him, drawing his attention. "Don't worry about him. He's
not going to do anything to you. It's me you should be concerned
about, Grundel."

Grundel looked
him up and down. "Tarl Averly, isn't it? Repair tech?"

"That's right.
I'm surprised you remember my name; you R and D guys were always so
damned snooty."

"What do you
want?"

"To give you
what you so richly deserve, and I so want to dish out. For what you
did to my friend. The shocks and burns. The humiliation, too." Tarl
glanced at Commander Barrin, whose silver-trimmed uniform indicated
his rank. "Although your commander had more to do with that."

"You're the
traitor. The one who sabotaged fifty-seven artificial wombs."

"That's
right."

Grundel
glanced at Sabre. "You call him your friend?"

"Yeah, and
he's a better man than the whole lot of you put together."

"I see he's
freed himself again. Or did you help?"

"He was never
under cyber control," Tarl said.

"So, you've
come to show him how much you care? Trying to win him over?"

Tarl snorted.
"I wasn't going to make it a public occasion, but it seems they all
want to watch."

"And you think
I'm just going to let you beat me up?"

"I hope
not."

Grundel
noticed Fairen's hooded figure in the corridor and bowed. "Forgive
me, My Lord, I did not see you there."

The rest of
the prisoners shuffled back and bowed, and Fairen tucked his hands
into the wide sleeves of his robe. Grundel hesitated, then added,
"Are you going to permit violence against your prisoners, My
Lord?"

"Yes."

Grundel stared
at him, clearly disappointed by his monosyllabic answer. "This
hardly seems like justice. What about a trial?"

"Your guilt is
not in question."