Chapter Four

 

Martis looked up from adjusting an analyser when Thestan entered the hospital. Boxes of half unpacked equipment littered the white, grey-floored room, jostling for space with the standard medical equipment that was used for injured crewmen. The enforcer ship had little in the way of cyber host repair apparatus, and setting up the delicate instruments was a tricky job. Especially since neither he nor Estrelle were engineers. They knew how to use the stuff, but setting it up was a whole different ballgame. Two crewmen helped, but, although they were maintenance techs, they knew nothing about control unit analysers or brain scanners either.

The sub commander approached Martis, his expression grim. "Your, err, friend is in the process of tearing up the exercise room, Host Tech. Could you speak to him?"

Martis swallowed, glancing at Estrelle. "I don't know about that, Commander."

"Well someone's got to do something about him. He's out of control, and when he's finished in there, he might decide to start on the crew."

"And you think I can stop him?"

Thestan's frown deepened. "Isn't he your friend?"

"I think Estrelle would have more success."

"Why's that?"

Martis put down the light reader. "Well, she's a woman, for one thing, and perhaps a little more his friend than me."

"Why does her sex have anything to do with it?"

"I think Sabre is in the process of discovering the drawbacks of being human, namely all the illogical emotional shit that comes with it. Right now, he's bloody angry, and another male would only aggravate that. Also, from his machine-mind point of view, she's not a threat, so she'd be safer."

Estrelle stared at him, shaking her head. "If he's tearing up the exercise room, I'm not going to be target practice."

"He won't hurt you."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do. I'm the expert, remember? Personally, I'd rather leave him alone to blow off steam, because that's what he's doing. But if you really want him to stop, Commander, Estrelle's your best bet."

Estrelle snorted. "You're just too cowardly to face him."

"No, I've got more sense. He does need someone to talk to, though."

"Let's wait till Kole catches up. He knows Sabre better."

Martis shook his head. "He'd definitely get used for target practise. He's annoying."

Thestan cast Estrelle a pleading look. "I'd be most grateful, Cyber Tech. According to the man who saw the exercise room, there's not much of it left."

Martis picked up the light reader again. "Yeah, well, he's a cyber, Commander, what do you expect? He can punch right through two centimetres of reinforced duronium alloy."

"He'd hurt his fist," Estrelle pointed out.

"True. I don’t think he’d care, right now, though."

She sighed and put down her magnotester. "Fine, I'll see if he'll talk to me, but if he throws anything at me, that's it."

Thestan nodded and led the way to the exercise room. The sounds of its destruction were audible from far down the corridor. A few nervous-looking men listened to the ruckus, and hurried away when Estrelle came past. Apparently they expected her to spark the simmering cyber into an explosion. She paused outside the door, fighting a strong urge to refuse to go in, then pressed the panel beside it, and it slid open. A weight rack hit the wall beside the door, making her jump and yelp. She longed to run, but her legs did not seem to work.

Sabre stood in the middle of the room, a ten-kilogram dumbbell in each hand, eyeing her. "Estrelle."

She gulped, her mind blank. "Sabre."

"What brings you to this den of destruction?"

"I want to talk to you."

The cyber hefted a dumbbell and hurled it at the wall. It bounced off with a clang, leaving a dent. "What about?"

"Your penchant for pandemonium?"

"I'm angry." Sabre hurled the second dumbbell.

"I can tell."

The cyber turned and strode towards her, and she backed away, bumping into the wall. Reaching her, he slammed his hands on the wall on either side her head with a terrific double bang, making her ears ring, and she gasped.

Sabre thrust his face close to hers and bellowed, "I hate these feelings!"

"I know, of course you do, you don't understand them," she gabbled, her heart doing a fandango in her throat.

"I don't want to understand them. I want them to go away!"

"Well, they won't. You're going to have to learn to deal with them."

Sabre swung away, walked a few paces and sank down in a heap, bowing his head. Estrelle hesitated, then went over and knelt beside him. Sweat sheened his skin and ran down his face, and his chest heaved. She reached out to him, then snatched her hand back, recalling Martis' warning. Sabre turned his head slightly, glaring at the floor.

"Don't touch me."

He did not need to look at her to see her, she knew. He was either using the scanners or the optical inputs, and she wondered why. "Okay. But you need human contact now more than ever. You need comfort."

"Not from you."

"Then who?"

He shook his head. "Tassin."

"We will find her."

"The chances of that are -"

"No, don't go into machine mode on me now. I want to talk to the new Sabre, the one who's just been unleashed from his cage."

"The beast."

She nodded. "Yes. The one with all those feelings, who doesn't know how to cope."

"I can't... cope."

"You can. We all do it. I know what you're doing. You're venting, and on inanimate objects, which is good, although if you carry on you'll wreck the ship. Enough is enough."

He raised silver eyes filled with anguish. "I can make myself calm, but it doesn't stop the shit in my head. This helps."

"Yeah, it would. Tell me what you're feeling."

"Anger. Lots of that. Hatred, for those smug bastards out there, who look at me like I'm a deformed toad they just found in their shorts. And others. I might never get her back, never find her again."

"Despair."

He nodded. "And what must she be going through now? Is someone hurting her? Is she all right?"

"Anguish."

"And why did this happen? Why her? Why now?"

"Bitterness."

"I want her back, more than anything. I want to see her again, hold her..." He shook his head, bowing it again.

"Love."

"That I know. I've felt it before, but not this strong."

Estrelle edged closer, shifting into a more comfortable position. His eyes followed her movement, but he did not raise his head. Instinct told her that if she touched him now, he would lash out, yet he did not understand why.

"You're also finding it difficult to control yourself, aren't you?" she asked.

He nodded. "You're not safe. You should leave."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No."

"But you think you might?"

He tilted his head, looking away. "Say the wrong thing... or touch me, and I think you'll be sorry."

"Yeah, I think I understand. You're an alpha male, dominance is part of your nature, and right now I'm encroaching on your private pity party."

"You're playing with fire."

"But if I shut up and go away, no one will help you. You have a right to some self-pity. It's natural, you've been through hell, and now you're going through more hell. You've lost that pure, logical reason that the control unit gave you. That's got to be really shitty."

"You have no idea," he murmured.

"Yeah, probably not. I grew up with my feelings, and children throw tantrums before they learn to deal with them, even adults get hysterical sometimes. It can be overwhelming, so you're not alone."

"I don't want to be like this."

"No, much easier to feel nothing, to be numb and logical, cold and analytical, untouched by ugly, hard to control feelings. But at the same time, when you see Tassin again, you'll feel happiness so much more now, too."

He lunged towards her, smashing his fists down on the floor beside her with a terrific bang that made her gasp and jump. "Get out!"

Estrelle fought the urge to flee, rubbing her ringing ears. "No. You will see her again. You've got to believe that."

He drew back like a coiling snake, shaking his head. "I thought I knew what happiness was, but no... I know what sorrow is now, though, don't I?"

"Yeah, you're having a hard time of it. This should have happened to you when you were happy. It would have been so much easier. You're learning about feelings when the worst ones are at their strongest."

"Now you're just stating the obvious."

"Okay, how about this? You're a gentle man. You don't like violence, but now you find yourself driven to it by all these pent-up emotions, and you don't like it."

He inclined his head. "Again, tell me something I don't know."

"Breaking things is satisfying, in your current mood, and you're very good at it, aren't you? Is there perhaps a little bit of arrogance in there too? No one can tell you what to do, right? You'll just smash their head in. How does that make you feel?"

"Like a freak."

"Right. Well you are a freak, I'm afraid. You were designed to be the best fighting machine ever, and that's what you are. Except you're not a machine anymore. This is what Myon Two always feared; a free cyber with all your abilities, and the emotions of a man, ready to turn your skills on others. But you haven't killed anyone yet, and I don't think you will."

He raised his head, his eyes piercing. "I'm touched by your faith in me."

She eyed him. "Now you're being sarcastic. You're angry because I doubt your ability to kill someone."

"Keep pushing, see what happens."

"You're not a killer, Sabre. I might get hurt if I touched you now, but you'd never kill me, or anyone else, unless they tried to kill you first. It's not part of your nature. Neither is cruelty. Shall I tell you why?"

"Please do."

"The very same reason you're so angry right now. You have feelings. Psychopaths are incapable of proper emotional responses, so are sociopaths. They feel no remorse, no pity, but you do, don't you? If you hurt me, even in a fit of rage, or a reflex action, you'd be sorry, like you were one Eden Five. Although I'd say that your feelings of remorse then weren't very strong. You're chained by your feelings, unable to lash out because of them, but others, just as strong, make you want to lash out. You're conflicted."

Sabre tilted his head, lowering his eyes to the floor, then keeled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "And this is what it's like to be human?"

"Yeah." Estrelle's eyes stung with tears of relief. "Does it help?"

"Not really."

She giggled, shaking her head. "You're not psychotic. You're a normal human being, full of conflicts, but capable of coming to terms with them."

He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It's still shitty."

Estrelle moved closer, sensing that the danger was past. He sat up and turned to her, holding out a hand. She placed hers in it, and he studied it.

"I want to say that you're brave, but you're not. You have all the bloody answers, and if you hadn't been sure I wouldn't hurt you, you wouldn't have come anywhere near me. You didn't risk touching me when I warned you not to, either. But Tassin... she took some huge risks, not knowing how I'd react, even though I would never have hurt her. But she didn't know that. She's brave."

"She's in love with you."

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Do you feel better now?"

"Calmer. I've stuffed all that shit into as many dark corners as I can find. This helped."

"What, the talk, or the tantrum?"

He smiled. "Both."

Releasing her hand, he stood up in a smooth motion and strode out of the door, leaving her staring after him.

At the hospital, Thestan waited with Martis, who was bent over an analyser, adjusting it. The commander raked her with an incredulous glance when she walked in.

She spread her arms. "Still in one piece. Not even a bruise."

Thestan shook his head. "He's dangerous, though."

"No, not really. If you piss him off, he might give you the odd bruise, that's all. No more than any other angry man, and he’s got a lot to be angry about."

"I need to know how to treat him."

Martis looked around. "Don't piss him off."

Estrelle nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Treat him like a man, with respect. Do what he says, and you'll be fine."

"Why did he wreck the exercise room?"

"He's really really angry right now. His mind block has failed, and he's learning what it is to have human emotions. He doesn't like it."

Martis nodded. "Can't say I blame him. Must be nice to have a purely logical mind."

"Nice and numb, yeah. I don't think I'd like to be that unable to feel; to go through life with nothing but programmed reactions. Then again, having all those emotions dumped into his mind in one fell swoop, with no knowledge of how to deal with them, must be horrible."

"But you think he's coping?"

She sat at a bench. "Not yet. That's what caused the tantrum. He wants to lash out, but there's nothing to focus his rage on right now. If he catches whoever took Tassin before this phase wears off, however, I pity them. There's something strangely endearing about him, though. He's so confused... It's sad."

"Will he be throwing any more tantrums?" Thestan asked.

"Probably. I think it helped when I told him the fact that he has these feelings means he's not psychotic. It's something he was afraid of. But you and your men are safe. As long as you don't provoke him, he'll take it out on inanimate objects."

"And how long do you think this phase is going to last?"

She shrugged, shaking her head. "Impossible to tell, but I reckon it will definitely end when he finds Tassin."

"But he's looking for Tarl Averly. Who's Tassin?"

Estrelle explained, and Thestan looked thoughtful, picked up an instrument and frowned at it. "Hard to imagine a cyber with those kinds of feelings."

"Well, he has them, trust me."

 

****

 

Tarl gazed out of the small screen in his cramped, utilitarian servants' room. The ugly brown planet that hung in space outside was Hades Eleven, a former penal colony that had rebelled in a bloodbath seventy years ago. The convicts had escaped and slaughtered all the staff and support personnel, sparing only the women. They had timed their escape to coincide with a visit from the regional governor, and took him hostage to gain control of the four warships that had been his escort. Once the prisoners had the ships, they had killed him too, and his soldiers. Since then, several attempts to retake the planet had failed, and it remained an outlaw haven far from other worlds.

The residents of Hades Eleven were distinguished by their scarred skin, a legacy of the last attempt to bring the former penal colony back under control by wiping out the residents with a weaponised virus. Thousands had perished, but Hadeans had proven to be tough, and the survivors had kept control of the world. The planet was semi-hostile, owning a thin atmosphere that had been terra-formed using an oxygen-producing alga to create breathable air. Being so far from its yellow sun, the world remained cold at all times. The temperature plummeted on the night side, and anyone caught outside would freeze in a couple of hours. Massive heat exchangers kept the buildings warm, and little construction had taken place since the rebellion.

Now, apparently, it was a meeting place for fight enthusiasts, and the massive, half empty prisons served as arenas. The visitors brought money to fuel the otherwise stagnant economy. The residents' only other form of income was the money they made from storing slaves and smuggled goods.

Tarl glanced around as Ashmond came in, looking ridiculous in a silver-studded black latex outfit that accentuated his pot belly and skinny legs. It was supposed to make him look tough, Tarl assumed, but succeeded only in making him look like an escapee from a bad bondage vidimage. The baron nodded a greeting and came over to him.

"Good, you're ready. We're leaving soon."

Tarl glanced down at the badly fitting grey and black uniform he had been given for the occasion. "How's Tassin?"

"Fine, scrubbing floors and polishing silver, don't worry."

Tarl nodded. "What are the cybers fighting?"

"Mostly dangerous beasts, and the occasional idiot. The days when Endrovar made his fortune pitting them against foolish men are over; everyone got wise and bought their own cybers. Then they discovered the futility of pitting the cybers against each other, it was no fun. Even arming a B-grade and pitting him against an unarmed A-grade was too predictable to bet on. So now it's the beasts."

"Has Endrovar got the drugs and equipment yet?"

"No, he's meeting his supplier at the games. He'll probably do some cyber trading, too, now that he's got you to examine the goods first. He's very pleased with you. He even gave me a bonus."

Tarl snorted. "You didn't know."

Ashmond shrugged. "He doesn't know that."

"I want to see Tassin."

"Ask Endrovar."

"You could organise it."

The baron glanced at his timepiece. "Time to go."

"Please. I must speak to her, to see if she's okay."

"I told you she's fine, but if you become too persistent, Endrovar will sell her, so don't push it." He swung away. "Come on."

Tarl spent the short shuttle trip to the planet's surface in the back compartment with the cybers, away from Endrovar and his guests, who amused themselves in the luxurious forward cabin. Tarl studied the four clones with deep pity. Their resemblance to Sabre was disconcerting, and he wondered what was going through their minds. Did they know what lay ahead, and were they afraid, or did they hope to die in a fight and end their suffering? Pitting cybers against dangerous beasts, while entertaining for the sick enthusiasts, was a cruel sport that often resulted in terrible injuries, and he was not looking forward to fixing them.

When the shuttle landed, he followed the cybers through the drab, functional concrete buildings to the assigned arena, a vast area in the middle of a cell block, formally used as an exercise yard. The beasts were confined in the cells on the ground floor, ready to be unleashed, while the spectators hung over the balconies and cat walks above. Spotlights illuminated a concrete floor stained brown by the blood of many battles, and the stench of the alien beasts made the already dank air foetid. One drawback to the oxygen-producing alga was the putrid stink it also produced, making it useless for any world where the residents might object, although his nose adjusted to it after a while.

A fight was in progress, a cyber pitted against a horse-sized lizard-like creature with a spiked head and venomous claws. Tarl leant on a railing and watched it with dull eyes, turning away when the alien ripped the cyber's leg open, his stomach knotting. In spite of his injury, the cyber won, and attendants dragged the alien beast's corpse away. They hosed the blood off and the next fight began, another cyber pitted against a three-metre tall, hairy, ape-like creature. Tarl found a comfortable spot to sit and wait, not interested in watching more suffering. Of the seven bouts that took place while he was there, only once did a cyber lose, and that was an old C-grade.

Food was served during an interval, and the wealthy spectators congregated in a massive mess hall adjacent to the arena, where they sat at steel tables and ate the three-course meal the Hadeans provided. Those with less money remained in the arena and consumed the snacks and portable portions vendors sold there. Tarl nibbled on a snack and hung around the mess hall’s door, keeping an eye on Endrovar, who spoke to a short, rat-faced man with darting black eyes. After the dinner break the fights resumed, and Endrovar sent two of his cybers in. Tarl was summoned to a back room to tend to the wounded clones afterwards. The first to fight was Warrior Four, the one with the bad heart, and Tarl grimaced when he examined the horrific wounds on the clone's arms and chest. Whatever he had fought had clearly had a lot of claws and spines, as well as venom. The cyber's weak heart was still beating at almost two hundred and fifty beats per minute, sweat poured off him, and he gasped in stertorous, wheezing breaths.

Tarl gave him a painkiller first, something he had forced Endrovar to supply, refusing to work on the cybers otherwise. Then he had the onerous chore of pulling out the many venomous spines that were embedded in the clone's arms and hands. It took him over an hour to stitch up all the wounds, by which time Warrior Two was brought in, his brow band ablaze with red lights. His legs had been broken below the knees, and one arm, which was also dislocated. A flap of scalp hung down the side of his head, exposing the golden barrinium plating on his skull, and his palms were shredded.

Endrovar was quite drunk by the time they returned to the ship, and Tarl did not see him again after he took the cybers to the hospital and put them on drips.

The following day, the party returned to the planet with the two remaining cybers, and once again Tarl sat where he could not see the gory fights, then took care of the injured clones afterwards. Warrior Three, the C-grade, barely won his fight, and the extent of his injuries and blood loss caused the control unit to shut down, but Tarl gave him painkillers anyway. As he was putting the finishing touches to the bandages on the clone's torso, Endrovar came in with the rat-faced man Tarl had seen him talking to in the mess hall, and four cybers. Endrovar indicated the ratty man with a banana-fingered hand.

"Tarl, this is Larus, my supplier. I want you to check out these cybers and give me your opinion."

The cyber tech went over and examined the clones, shaking his head. "They're all B-grades, except this one, who's a well-disguised C-grade."

Larus swelled with indignation. "Rubbish! They're all A-grades."

"Nope." Tarl shook his head. "They're B-grades."

"You don't know what you're talking about. You're a phony. The only cyber techs work for Myon Two. This is just a ploy to get my cybers cheaper."

"I used to work for Myon Two," Tarl said. "I can prove it."

"How?"

"You know about the tattoos?"

Larus snorted. "Anyone can get a tattoo."

"These are special. They have a registration number embedded in them, which cybers can see. Order one of these cybers to kill me, and see what happens."

Larus' eyes darted, increasing his resemblance to a trapped rat, and he licked his lips.

Endrovar looked intrigued. "Do it, Larus. If he's not who he says he is, prove it."

The supplier's eyes narrowed, and he turned to the nearest cyber and pointed at Tarl. "Cyber Seventeen, kill him."

The cyber stepped towards Tarl, who turned to face him. The cyber stopped two strides away, his brow band flashing.

"Unable to comply. This man is a Myon Two technician."

Tarl glanced at Larus. "Proof enough for you?"

Endrovar grinned, clearly delighted. "I didn't know about this."

"Few people do," Tarl said. "It's a safety feature, so cybers can't be used against Cybercorp executives. All Myon Two technical personnel have the tattoos."

"But where's the tattoo? I don't see one."

Tarl pulled open his coverall, exposing the red tattoo on his shoulder. "The registration number gives off ultra violet light, which the control units can see even through clothes."

"But what if someone copied your tattoo? He'd be safe from cyber attack then, right?"

"The tattoos can't be duplicated. Only Myon Two has the technology to do them."

"Fascinating." Endrovar turned to Larus. "So, now you'll have to sell these cybers to me at thirty per cent less than you were asking, or bring me some real A-grades."

Larus shook his head. "I have plenty of buyers, but where will you find another supplier?"

Endrovar scowled. "I'll find one."

"Good, then do that. I won't miss your business. I have more demand than I can handle."

"I'll also spread the word that you're selling B-grades as A-grades,” Endrovar said.

"Go ahead, even those who believe you still have to buy from me, and I can sell them for as much as I want." Larus walked out, the cybers following.

The emperor scowled at Tarl. "That didn't go as expected. Now I have to find a new supplier."

"I could find you one if I had access to the Net, sir," Tarl offered.

"As if I'm going to let you go online and send a distress message," Endrovar said, shaking his head. "I'm no fool."

Tarl shrugged. "There's no one for me to send a message to, and I'm an outlaw, condemned to death by Myon Two. I wouldn't risk them finding me."

"But you'd risk exposing yourself to look for a new supplier."

"No risk. I'd be searching, not sending information, and I certainly wouldn't identify myself."

Endrovar shook his head. "Not going to happen." He glanced at Warrior Three. "How's my little warrior doing?"

"He's shut down from blood loss."

"Agh, well, he's not going to last much longer. The next fight will be the end of him, I reckon."

"I agree."

The emperor smiled. "Then next time I'll bet on the beast, and make a killing."

"I need the drugs and equipment, sir."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get them."