Chapter Two

 

"My Lord! My Lord, please wake up!" Commander Shrain touched the young Overlord's shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

Fairen cursed and burrowed under the silken covers, shrugging him off. "Leave me alone!"

"My Lord, it's urgent!"

"I don't care. Piss off."

"It's the cyber."

"What about him?"

"He's activated the distress beacon."

Fairen flung off the covers and sat up in his massive, crimson quilted bed. "When?"

"A few minutes ago. I came straight away."

"Locate it." Fairen reached for his trousers.

"We're already doing that, My Lord."

"Prepare for emergency translocation." Fairen swore when he discovered that he was trying to stuff both legs into the same trouser leg. "Why does he always do this when I'm asleep?"

"The ship is fifty seconds from translocation configuration."

"Locate the beacon!"

Shrain, a grey-haired man in his mid-fifties with a bluff countenance and receding hairline, consulted his communications box. "It's stopped."

"Translocate to its last location."

"Yes, My Lord, at once."

Fairen pulled on his shirt and stood up, then bent and found his shoes. "Have you found it yet?"

"Almost."

"Hurry up!"

"Yes, My Lord." Shrain typed faster. "We've narrowed the location to an obscure planet on the rim. It's somewhere in the region of... Omega Five."

"Translocate there at once."

"What about the negotiations between -?"

"Tell them they'd better have come to an agreement before I come back, or I'll wipe them both out."

"Yes, My Lord."

Fairen headed for the door, Shrain trotting in his wake. His private apartment, like the rest of the Scorpion Ship, had a décor of black and pale grey with crimson trimmings, such as the curtains that draped his four-poster bed and hung against the walls, back-lighted so they gave off a subtle ruddy glow that the floating light globes all but banished when they were at their brightest. Since he had been in the midst of a sleep cycle when Shrain had woken him, they had been dim at first, but now that he was awake, the ship’s AI raised the lighting to a normal daytime level. As he stepped through the portal, the freezing solidity of translocation gripped him. A blinding flash seared his eyes, and then he staggered free of the stasis and reeled down the grey-carpeted corridor, Shrain stumbling after him. In the vast black-walled control room, Fairen frowned at the peaceful blue and white planet in the four twenty-metre ovoid screens.

"No ships. Find their ion trails and follow them."

"Yes, My Lord." Shrain tapped on his com-link. "Three ships, one was the Trykon warship... the other two are unidentified."

"Well identify them!"

"Yes, My Lord, working on it. We're following the trails. They're heading for a corridor."

"Of course they are."

The stars moved across the screens as the Scorpion Ship turned to follow the trails, and Fairen seethed with impatience. Its massive size made his ship slower in normal flight, especially when manoeuvring, but without a destination he could not translocate, and the generators need time to recharge.

 

****

 

A technical officer looked up at Atrel. "We're going to run out of fuel in two hours, burning it at this rate, First Lieutenant."

"How far to the corridor?"

"Twenty-seven minutes."

"That gives us an hour and a half of fuel for deceleration and manoeuvring. It should be enough."

Another officer looked around. "They're not heading for this corridor. They're turning away."

"What's their heading?"

"They're still turning." The officer studied his instruments for a couple of minutes. "They're on course for a distant corridor, 675-842. It's three hours away."

Atrel cursed, bringing his fist down on the console beside him with a bang. "We can't follow them. We have to find fuel. Enter the corridor ahead. We know where they're going."

"That will give them time to torture, or kill him," Tassin said.

Atrel turned to frown at her. "If they wanted to kill him, they would have done so already. As for torture, a warrior can withstand much pain, non-com. There's nothing we can do without fuel."

"Then let me use your communications device. I'll call Overlord Fairen and ask for his help."

"They're still jamming us."

Tassin wanted to shout at him to follow them, to fight, do something, but she knew it was futile. He was right. Swinging away, she left the bridge.

 

****

 

"My Lord, we've detected debris ahead,” Shrain said. “One ship, and not a very large one. It's not the Trykon vessel."

"Scan it for cyber remains."

"Detecting traces of barrinium, enough for two or three cybers."

"So they had cybers aboard, that doesn't mean he was one of them."

"No, My Lord." Shrain consulted his com-link. "The trails split up ahead. One enters the corridor close to us, the other continues on to a farther corridor."

Fairen swung around. "Then they must have defeated the second ship, and it fled. Follow the Trykon ship."

"Yes, My Lord. Entering corridor momentarily."

The young Overlord mounted the shallow dais and sat on his high-backed onyx throne, pondering the situation. The remains of two cybers in the debris could mean that the ships that had attacked Sabre were Myon Two enforcers, but was not conclusive. Many ships carried cybers, although two was unusual. If they were enforcers, Myon Two had disobeyed him, and the fact that they had found Omega Five seemed to indicate that they had had help, possibly from Overlord Ramadaus, which did not please Fairen.

 

****

 

Commander Barrin entered the examination room, which had been especially prepared and equipped in case they captured the rogue cyber. The walls were reinforced duronium, and movement sensors constantly monitored the occupants. Although the loss of his escort soured his triumph somewhat, it was still a great achievement. Seventeen enforcer ships had followed rumours and clues in search of the rogue cyber since Overlord Ravian had taken him, and he had thought the boring vigil at Omega Five would be a waste of time. The mission was top secret, since two Overlords had forbidden Myon Two to hunt the cyber. He wondered why Myon Two thought it was so important to capture the rogue, even going against the Overlords to do it.

Walking over to the table, he gazed down at the rogue. The senior technician, Grundel, looked up, cocking one side of his unibrow. "Can I help you, Commander?"

"How long before the paralysing agent wears off?"

"He'll metabolise it in five hours, since he's not in stasis, but we'll give him more."

"I want to talk to him."

"It won't do you any good, sir, he's just the host."

Barrin nodded. "A host who managed to free himself from his control unit and live like a human for many months. I think we could learn from him."

"I disagree. The host brain was not designed for independent thought."

"Yet, from watching his memory recordings, we've all seen that he's fully capable of it."

"Even so, what do you hope to learn from him?" Grundel asked.

"How he got free, for one thing."

"We know that. The control unit was damaged in a high velocity impact."

"The first time,” Barrin agreed. “What about the second time?"

"Under the direction of his owner, he kidnapped a Myon Two director and forced him to remove the software patch that reinstated the cyber's control."

"How did his owner know to do that?"

Grundel shrugged. "Not a hard thing to work out. The only way to hack a cyber is to get a technician who has the codes."

"I still want to talk to him."

"Sir, releasing him from the paralysis would be extremely dangerous, even with restraints. I won't authorise it."

"You can't keep him paralysed for three months, and that's how long it's going to take us to reach Myon Two," Barrin said.

"I plan to put him into cold sleep."

"How will you do that without the cyber to control his metabolism?"

Grundel frowned. "I'm working on that."

"And if you can't?"

"Then we'll have to let the paralysing agent wear off."

Barrin nodded. "I can wait. I don't think you're going to be able to fix him on your own."

Grundel turned back to his equipment, scrutinising the spiky lines on a screen.

Barrin leant closer. "What are you doing now?"

"Studying his brain waves."

"Looks pretty active."

"Yeah, he's wide awake, and listening to us. This is so abnormal, it's freaky. His brain waves should be almost non-existent, less than a sleeping person's."

"Are these like a normal person's?"

"Yeah."

The commander straightened. "Let me know when you plan to release him."

"I don't."

 

****

 

"We've entered the corridor, My Lord," Shrain informed Fairen. "Do you wish to hail the Trykon ship?"

Fairen turned from his perusal of the light-filled screens. "Yes. Tell them to take their solar wings offline so we can capture them, then bring them to a docking port. Tell them I wish to speak to Sabre."

Shrain spoke into his com-link and waited for the reply, then looked up at Fairen. "They say Commander Sabre is not on board, My Lord. He was captured by two Myon Two enforcer ships, one of which the Trykons destroyed. They don't know if he was aboard it."

"Well that was bloody clever of them,” Fairen muttered. “When they're docked, have Tassin Alrade and the technician Tarl brought aboard, and then release the Trykons."

"Yes, My Lord." Shrain spoke into the com-link again.

Fairen gazed out of the screens, frowning. The only way the enforcers could have captured Sabre without defeating and boarding the Trykon warship was if they had transferred him, and that technology belonged exclusively to the Overlords. If the enforcers had it, an Overlord had given it to them, and he knew of only one Overlord who would do that. The one who wanted Sabre dead at any price, it seemed. He pondered the ramifications of Ramadaus helping the enforcers now, since he had discovered the folly of trying to kill Sabre himself. Giving away Overlord technology was also forbidden and Ramadaus knew it. Fairen would have to forbid the enforcers to ever use it again, but so far Myon Two had proven rebellious. If they continued to use it, there would be a vote amongst all the Overlords to lay down a unanimous decree, which, if broken, would result in the destruction of Myon Two. They would not dare to disobey. At least then they would not be able to use it to snatch Sabre again.

The Scorpion Ship sailed the photon corridor on mammoth solar wings, its size such that it spanned the entire corridor. Fairen hardly ever used photon travel, since he could translocate, and a ship this size, home to over one hundred and fifty-five thousand people, caused some spacial distortions as it outstripped light speed several hundred times over. In fact, the Scorpion Ship was not really designed as a light ship, since it was too large, and it had solar wings primarily as a backup system, in case his translocation generators and the tunnel drive failed. In order to capture a ship in a photon corridor, however, he had to enter it and match its speed. The solar wings, vast webs of negatively charged electromagnetic power confined in a stasis field, propelled the ship by capturing the speeding photons and reversing them, which provided basically unlimited forward thrust, since the faster the ship went, the more the streaming photons were overtaken and the inverted particles moved backwards quicker.

 

****

 

Tassin stared at the worn metal floor in Tarl’s cabin and blinked back the tears that stung her eyes, determined not to cry. She sat on a bunk, which was a little more comfortable than the cold metal chairs. The cabin’s dull greyness and cramped confines were depressing, but a relief after the tension of the bridge and the Trykons’ ill-concealed scorn and hostility. Without Sabre’s protection, only his former status with the warriors kept them safe, and she wondered how long that would last. If he had died on the enforcer ship, she did not give much for their continued freedom or good health. The possibility that he was gone did not bear thinking about, however, and she refused to believe it. Tarl sat on the bunk opposite, looking stunned and forlorn. She raised her head and glanced at the door.

"I'm going to ask Atrel if I can call Fairen. The enforcers must have stopped jamming us by now; we've been in a corridor for two hours."

"He won't let you."

"He wants to save Sabre, doesn't he?"

"If his pride doesn't get the better of him," Tarl said.

"I don't think Atrel's as bad as the rest. He seems reasonable." She stood up. "If he won't, we'll just have to use the lasers again."

"They confiscated them after the last time, remember?"

"Didn't Sabre get them back?"

Tarl shook his head. "I didn't tell him that they'd taken them. Did you?"

"No." She sat down again, slumped with dejection. "Then I'll just have to hope Atrel will let me. Last time I asked, he didn't say no."

The door opened, and Atrel filled it, two warriors flanking him. Tassin's heart leapt with hope that he had good news, or was here to give her permission to use the communications device. His gaze swept over them.

"Overlord Fairen requests your presence on his ship. We'll be docking with it shortly."

"He came!" Relief made Tassin dizzy, and she wanted to laugh. "Sabre must have activated the distress beacon when he was taken. Has Fairen rescued him already?"

"He didn't say. Bring your possessions. You will not be returning." Atrel was clearly disgusted that Fairen had requested two non-coms instead of him.

Tarl went over to a cupboard and pulled out his bag, stuffing his few spare clothes and oddments into it. Tassin brushed past Atrel and ran to her cabin to collect her things. When she returned, Atrel was gone, leaving the two warriors to escort them to the docking port, where four black-uniformed soldiers waited. She was amazed to discover that the Trykon warship was berthed in a docking bay so vast that the destroyer seemed like a toy. Quite a large one, but the sheer size of the docking bay dwarfed it. Fairen's crewmen guided her through the Scorpion Ship's black-walled corridors to his control room, where the young Overlord sat on his massive throne, his bright blue eyes filled with worry and his level black brows drawn together. Tassin ran to the dais, dropped her bags and inclined her head. Behind her, Tarl bowed.

"Where's Sabre?" she burst out, unable to control her desperate need for news of him.

Fairen's brows rose. "Greetings, Queen Tassin."

"Forgive me, Overlord Fairen, I'm so worried about him. Thank you for coming."

"Regrettably, I don't know where he is, or even if he's alive, any more than you do. Cyber remains were detected in the debris of the enforcer ship the Trykons destroyed."

Tassin's heart sank, but she shook her head, determined not to give in to despair. Sabre could not be dead. "No, he must be on the other one."

"I hope so."

"They'll take him to Myon Two. We have only to go there to find him."

"It will take them three months to reach Myon Two using corridors. Since I followed your ship instead of them, I've lost their trail."

Tassin looked away, despondent. "They'll do terrible things to him in three months."

"I agree. Which is why I intend to go immediately to Myon Two and demand his release. But I must warn you, if they have the audacity to go against my order not to hunt him, they won't easily admit to having done so."

"They can't lie to you."

"Myon Two is a big planet. The enforcer factions are manifold, and it's entirely possible that their president has no knowledge of who did this."

"But he can find out!"

Fairen gazed at her pensively. "He won't be willing to help. He will agree to do so, but how much effort do you think he'll put into it? And while he's pretending to help, Sabre suffers on that ship."

"What else can we do?"

"Unfortunately, our options are limited."

Tassin stepped forward. "Fairen, you have unlimited power. Use it, please. Sabre saved your life twice. Surely that counts for something?"

He frowned. "Of course it does. Why do you think I'm here?"

Tarl touched Tassin's elbow and whispered, "Hey, cool it. Remember who you're talking to."

She nodded, bowing her head as she struggled to control her emotions. "I'm sorry, My Lord."

He waved a slender hand. "I understand your anguish. I share it. What would you have me do?"

"Send out ships to search for the enforcers. Put a bounty on their heads. Order every planet to report them if they stop to refuel or pass through their territory."

"There are thousands of enforcer ships. How would they know it was the right one?"

"Then order them to board and search every enforcer ship they find."

He sighed, shaking his head. "That would spark conflicts. Myon Two is a powerful world. Few would be willing to take on enforcers. And even if they did do it, how would they tell him apart from the cybers every enforcer ship carries?"

"The lights on his brow band are different from a normal cyber."

"That's a very small difference for an untrained man to spot. The enforcers will lie; tell them his brow band is malfunctioning. It won't work."

"What about the bracelet you gave him?" she asked.

"If he's still wearing it. They might have removed it. They've already succeeded in stopping the signal, and, since they can't deactivate it, they must have broken it. They know what it is, so they won't take the chance that Sabre activated it."

"There must be something you can do!"

Fairen nodded, turning to the man with gold embroidery on his sleeves who stood in the shadows. "Commander Shrain, has the Trykon ship undocked?"

"Yes, My Lord."

"Translocate to Myon Two."

"Yes, My Lord." Shrain consulted his com-link. "Ship is in translocation configuration, generators charged. Translocating in thirty seconds."

Fairen gazed into space, his expression grim, but pensive. "This will be the first time an Overlord has visited Myon Two."

 

****

 

President Niare glanced around in irritation as the com-link on his desk beeped, his knife and fork poised over his half eaten lunch. He hated to be interrupted during a meal, especially when it was buttered benja wings and sweet fetar cream with jem berries. Setting down his utensils, he took a sip of musky red wine and glared at the com-link, wishing he could ignore it and continue to enjoy his lunch. His office was the envy of every other politician on the planet, and quite a few tycoons. Onyx-framed vidcom screens lined his sleek golden vrywood desk, and a matching two metre-square one on the opposite wall came in handy for teleconferences. Plush, wine red, cross-woven carpeting complemented the fawn veer-hide curtains, which framed the floor to ceiling tinted windows that gave a panoramic view of the capital city's vast, glittering splendour. Air-car traffic shot past in fifteen levels of cross lanes, sleek fun cars on the topmost five levels and ponderous commercial freight trucks at the bottom, with public transport in the middle. Wiping crumbs and a smear of sweet sauce from his double chin, he keyed the com-link.

"What the hell is it? I'm eating my lunch. I said no interruptions."

"Sir, this is Admiral Menaar. An Overlord has appeared in Myon Two space, just beyond the outer traffic markers. The ship is moving towards the planet."

Niare stared at the com-link in stunned silence for several moments.

"Sir? Are you there?" the voice from the com-link demanded.

"Yes." Niare’s voice emerged as a squeak, and he swallowed hard, his heart pounding. "Which Overlord is it?"

"The Scorpion Lord."

"Oh, god. What does he want?"

"No communications have taken place yet. He's moving into orbit. The disruption to traffic is terrible."

"Bugger the traffic. Prepare my personal shuttle."

"Yes, sir."

President Niare stood up, his mind reeling with shock and terror at the prospect of meeting an Overlord, especially the Red Death, most feared of all. What did he want? He ran a hand over the fine head of regrown brown hair he had had implanted when his original hair had fallen out many years ago. One of the myriad benefits of cyber technology was the advanced cloning science Myon Two possessed, which allowed the wealthy to replace ageing or malfunctioning body parts. He went to the gleaming black dim wood door, which slid open. His secretary looked up in surprise.

"Get in here," Niare ordered. "I have to change into my state clothes in a hurry."

The vapid, gangly man's eyebrows shot up. "There's no dignitary visiting on my schedule, sir."

"This dignitary doesn't need an appointment, Frem."

Frem bristled. "All dignitaries need an appointment to see the president of Myon Two, sir."

"Yeah? Well you tell that to Overlord Fairen, how about that?"

Frem paled, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and rose to hurry into Niare's office. "We'll have to prepare an official welcome. A state dinner, and invite all the planetary leaders. When does he arrive?"

Niare shook his head. "He's already here. Forget about all that crap, Overlords never leave their ships. I'll be summoned as soon as his ship docks into orbit, which it's doing even as we speak, so get a move on."

Frem trotted into the walk-in vrywood wardrobe, recessed lighting brightening at his entry. He grabbed a white silk shirt, a royal blue jacket, matching trousers, a black and gold tie, black shoes and a belt. Niare shucked his grey jacket and pale blue shirt, revealing a hirsute torso that had benefited from far too many formal afternoon luncheons and the rich gourmet delicacies to be found at political functions and fund raisers. Even cyber technology could not prevent the penalties of excess, although his heart had been replaced twice and his liver once already. Even now, however, cyber sci-techs were working on a way to splice the cyber gene that prevented weight gain to normal human DNA. Frem helped him don the new outfit with shaking hands. He had barely fastened the shirt's zip tabs when the com-link beeped, and he rushed over to it.

"President Niare's office."

"This is Admiral Menaar. The president's shuttle is ready, and we've received a message from the Scorpion Ship, demanding his immediate presence."

"He's on his way."

Niare's stomach squirmed as Frem hurried back to help him with his tie, knotting it as the president made for the door.

"Good luck, sir," Frem said.

Niare shot him a sickly smile and trotted to the lift, where his escort waited.