The Cyber Chronicles VIII - Scorpion Lord (21 page)

She scowled at
them. "Let me pass."

"No one leaves
till the fight's over, Miss. Go back to your seat."

"I need the
toilet. You want me to pee on my seat?"

The taller man
smiled and shook his head. "Toilet's down there." He indicated a
lighted sign that pointed down some steps to the right. She
followed it, finding a palatial bathroom complete with gold taps
and a fountain, but no exit. Cursing, she wondered what she was
going to do. After a couple of minutes she went back into the
arena, averting her eyes from the fighters lest they mesmerise her
again. The soft thuds and gasping breaths reached her as she moved
away from the toilet and the exit, searching for trouble.

Picking a
couple next to the aisle, an overdressed middle-aged woman with a
too-tight face and a wig, who sat next to a portly man with a
ponytail, both bedecked in jewels, she stopped and pointed at
him.

"Hey, I've
been looking for you!" she cried, and several people glanced
around, making shushing sounds. The portly man looked startled, and
the woman, who was presumably his wife, cast Estrelle a haughty
look.

Estrelle
strode closer. "I want to know what you're going to do about your
son! You just ran out and left me! I can't afford to raise a child
alone! You promised to look after him! How am I supposed to support
us on a stripper's salary, huh? Tell me that, you bastard!"

The woman
gaped at her husband, who goggled at Estrelle, thunderstruck.
Estrelle hoped she was not going to give him a heart attack. "It
was all very well when you just wanted an afternoon's
entertainment, but now there's a child, you're not interested!"

The man shook
his head. "I don't know you."

"Oh, right,
that's the easy way out, you slime ball! I'll get DNA proof, then
we'll see if you can wriggle out of it!"

The man's wife
glared at him, and he shot her a pleading look, shaking his head.
"She's lying, I swear! I've never seen her before!"

"Yeah, right,
you would say that, wouldn't you?" Estrelle shouted.

Soft thuds and
grunts from the arena goaded her. She had to get out of here before
the organisers sent a man to take back the money. Bad enough that
Martis had got Sabre into a deadly fight without coming out of it
empty handed to boot. The man blustered, but his wife clobbered him
with her handbag, and the commotion spread. One of the burly
bouncers from the door came over, and Estrelle flew at her chosen
victim, slapping him. His wife turned on her and smacked her back,
and Estrelle whacked her too.

The beefy gate
guard grabbed Estrelle and dragged her off the couple, hauled her
to the exit and shoved her out hard enough to make her stumble and
sit down with a grunt. She picked herself up, shouted a parting
insult and dived into the lift, banging the button for the first
floor. Back in the gleaming marble lobby, she kept her head down to
avoid curious stares as she made for the doors. She left the
building with a sigh of relief, trotting away down the road.

Martis glanced
around as a commotion started, spotted Estrelle in the thick of it
and wondered why she had to cause trouble everywhere she went. When
the shouting stopped, he rose and went back to the organisers'
office, but a bull-necked bouncer blocked his entry.

"I have to
speak to the organisers," Martis yelled. "The fight was supposed to
be stopped at first blood!"

The big man
leant forward. "I ain't deaf, and they can't hear you, dumbass, the
office is soundproofed. The fight will end when one of them is
dead, so bugger off."

Martis glared
at him, wishing he had a weapon. He wondered if he should cause a
commotion to lure the guard away, but a glance at the office door
showed him that it was secured with a coded lock. He would not gain
entry even with the bouncer out of the way. As he returned to his
seat, a number of ideas came to him, most of which were fairly
ridiculous, even in his opinion. The arena wall was topped with an
inward-angled slice wire barrier, which would slash open anyone who
tried to break it. From the brown stains around the rim, other
doomed contestants had tried to escape their fate in the past.

Sabre ducked
under his opponent's lashing boot and dropped backwards into a
handspring. His feet skimmed past the young cyber's face as he
jerked back to avoid them. A fight between two A-grades would go on
for hours, until both fighters dropped from exhaustion. Their
skills and stamina were too evenly matched. The temptation to let
the control unit guide him was strong, but it would lead to a
stalemate of skills when pitted against its twin. He had to use
tactics a cyber normally would not if he was going to win.

Already he had
tried some strong-arm tactics with minor success, but he would have
to employ full contact combat, which he detested. The cyber's
aversion to it communicated itself to him even as he considered it,
warning him of the potential dangers. He had no choice, however,
even though it would inevitably lead to injuries, they could not be
avoided. He glanced up at Martis and Estrelle, finding only Martis,
and spun away as his opponent lunged for him, considering his
options and dismayed by how few there were. Without a weapon, a
cyber was almost impossible to kill, but he could be crippled.

Sabre whipped
round as the cyber came at him. He fought the urge to leap aside
and met him head on. Jerking his head forward, he smashed the brow
band into his opponent's nose. His head rang like a gong, but blood
spurted from the young cyber's nose as it was smashed flat, the
barrinium spike that reinforced it bent by the force of the blow.
The cyber hardly seemed to feel it, and lashed out with a fist,
which Sabre ducked. He grabbed his foe's wrist and twisted it with
all his strength. The young cyber dropped into a forward roll to
save his arm, but Sabre reversed the twist, using his opponent's
evasive manoeuvre to increase the damage. The bones in the cyber's
shoulder joint gave, ligaments tearing, then the joint popped,
dislocating.

The younger
cyber fell backwards, drew up his legs and kicked Sabre in the
solar plexus, lifted him off his feet and hurled him across the
arena, breaking his grip on his foe's wrist. He rolled and sprang
up, saved from having the wind punched out of him by his iron-hard
abdominal muscles. The cyber's left shoulder bulged where the
dislocated joint protruded, but the control unit would ignore the
pain, so, unlike a normal man, he would still use the injured arm.
It did impede him, though. The cyber dropped and rolled towards
Sabre, sprang up with a lithe twist and jumped into a spinning
kick.

Sabre leapt
high, tucking up his legs, and kicked downwards as his adversary's
leg passed beneath him, hitting the knee. The cyber fell, rolled
away and jumped up, but his knee was clearly damaged. Sabre dived
into a forward handspring, his boots aimed at the young cyber’s
face, but he stepped aside. Sabre went after him, ducking as he
turned and lashed out with a fist, which skimmed over the top of
Sabre's head. Sabre's fist smashed into the cyber’s armoured throat
and sent him reeling backwards.

The fight had
been in progress for three hours now, and sweat streamed down him.
It dripped from his elbows and soaked his vest, ran into his eyes
and sprayed from his chin. His heart was cruising at two hundred
and twenty beats per minute, and his blood pressure was up to a
hundred and fifty over a hundred and twenty, normal for a cyber in
full combat. Adrenalin coursed through him, but his bio-status had
dropped to seventy-two per cent. The cyber came at him again,
leaping into a spinning kick. Sabre jumped high to smash his heel
into his opponent's head.

Once again the
young cyber was flung off balance, spinning to the ground. Sabre
landed beside him and lunged as he sprang up. The cyber threw
himself backwards in a classical evasive move, jerked up his legs
and kicked as Sabre grabbed his right wrist. The terrific wrench
made Sabre's shoulder burn, and a rib cracked with a dull crunch.
He hung on, bore his foe to the ground and bent his wrist backwards
with both hands. The joint gave with a dull pop, and the young
cyber tried to punch him with his left fist. The dislocated
shoulder impaired his mobility, and he missed.

Sabre held the
cyber down, threw a leg over his thigh and pinned it. Recalling his
fight with the Corsair, he strived to entangle his opponent, using
brute force to grip him. His head pounded as blood vessels swelled
with the strain. The cyber heaved and writhed, making Sabre's
joints creak and his muscles burn. He shifted his hold to his
adversary's elbow, bent and twisted it savagely. The young cyber
turned and jerked his head forward, striving to smash Sabre's face,
but he avoided the blow. Handicapped by his dislocated left
shoulder, the cyber strained against Sabre, staring through him
with blank eyes.

With a
terrific wrench, the cyber jerked one leg from Sabre's grip and
kicked him in the chest, punching him backwards. He hung onto his
opponent's arm, his joints burning and creaking under the strain.
The cyber writhed and rolled, forced Sabre onto his back and pinned
him down. Sabre punched him in the face, and blood sprayed over him
from the broken nose and split brow. The young cyber retaliated
with his left fist, smashed it into Sabre's cheek and split the
inside of it, causing blood to gush into his mouth. Sabre arched
his back, heaving mightily, and rolled on top of his adversary
again. The cyber hooked a leg over Sabre's shoulder and pushed,
bending him backwards until he thought his spine would snap.

Hanging onto
the cyber's right wrist, Sabre bent it, trying to dislocate his
shoulder. His foe twisted sideways, forcing him onto the ground,
his leg hooked around Sabre's neck. The strain was massive, and his
bio-status dropped to sixty-eight per cent. The savage test of
strength drained his resources swiftly, and was one reason cybers
did not favour close contact combat. Gritting his teeth, Sabre
twisted his head out from under the cyber's leg, released his right
wrist and sprang away. The cyber regained his feet in a lithe
bound, his left knee wobbling.

The young
cyber now had a dislocated left shoulder, a broken right wrist, a
severely sprained right elbow and a smashed patella. Sabre had two
cracked ribs, a sprained shoulder and torn ligaments in his elbows
and wrists, but the fight was far from over. The young cyber would
fight until he was too incapacitated to continue, was ordered to
stop, or was dead. His injuries would slow him, however, giving
Sabre a slight advantage, even though he was similarly hampered. He
had to end it soon, but there were not many ways in which to kill a
cyber, and he glanced around for inspiration.

The slice-wire
was too high, and the young cyber would easily counter the walls.
His skull could not be smashed, anyway. Testing the sponginess of
the foam, Sabre took a couple of bouncing steps and leapt at his
enemy, aiming for a scissor neck hold. The young cyber dropped and
rolled, as Sabre knew he would. Sabre kicked into a backflip as
soon as his feet touched the ground, tucking in his legs to spin
through the air. Landing in a crouch beside his still-rolling foe,
he flung himself at the cyber, grabbed his left arm and twisted it
behind his back.

Pinning his
adversary face-down, Sabre held him there with a knee on the back
of his neck, trying to force his face into the floor and cut off
his air. The cyber heaved, then twisted his head to the side,
freeing his nose and mouth. Sabre rolled him, forcing his hand up
behind his neck, the dislocated shoulder joint tearing with an ugly
sound. Once again his face was pressed into the spongy foam, his
neck twisted at an acute angle. Sabre gripped his opponent's right
arm and forced it to joint its partner behind the cyber's neck. He
heaved again, sweat making him slippery, and Sabre struggled to
hold him in position.

Sabre knew
that the young cyber's bio-status was ticking down rapidly now,
warning lights flashing at the lack of oxygen in his blood. His
metabolic rate was in overdrive to provide the energy he needed for
the fight, which meant he was using oxygen at a terrific rate, and
would run out all the sooner because of it. Even so, it would
probably take between five and seven minutes for him to die.
Pushing harder, he ground his opponent's face into the floor,
holding both arms pinned behind his neck. The young cyber kicked
backwards, almost dislodging Sabre, who hung on. He sensed his
foe's strength dwindling. The cyber's struggles grew weaker, and he
made strange gurgling noises as he struggled to breathe. It was a
savage way to die, and Sabre hated it, loathing the men who forced
him to kill his twin or be killed himself even more.

The cyber
writhed again, more weakly, his chest heaving as he strived to
breathe. Sabre held him, knowing that unless his owner ordered him
to stop, the youngster would only keep trying to kill him. One of
them had to die, and Sabre did not want to be it. Muttering came
from the audience, which he had almost forgotten about. Six minutes
ticked past like hours. Sweat ran down his face, and his breath
came in harsh gasps. His bio-status dropped to sixty-four per
cent.

The young
cyber heaved once more, then jerked and twitched, going into the
convulsions that preceded death as his control unit made a last
ditch effort to resuscitate him by dumping adrenalin into his
system. Sabre could sense the young cyber's heart racing, probably
at over three hundred beats per minute now, his increased blood
pressure causing vessels to bulge on his neck. Without oxygen,
however, all the control unit's efforts would be in vain. The
youngster stiffened as his heart stopped, and then went limp. Sabre
held him down for another minute, then released him and rolled him
onto his back. The brow band blazed red. His lips were blue and his
eyes bloodshot.