Sabre kicked the empty laser cradle on the battlements and turned away with a curse. The tarpaulin that had covered it lay in a crumpled heap at his feet, where he had dropped it after tugging it off. Evidently Torrian, or Dellon, had left the cradles covered to give the impression that the castle was still armed. Tassin’s guard sergeant had informed her of the weapons’ removal shortly after her return, and she had told Sabre about it at breakfast that morning, a day after Tarl had repaired the damage to the cyber’s shoulder.
The ammunition was also gone, along with the soldiers he had trained, and he knew everything now resided at Torrian’s castle, where the laser cannons were doubtless installed. It came as no surprise, but it complicated matters. Tassin was once more vulnerable, and Torrian now held all the power, his fortress impregnable and his army undefeatable. Sabre had no doubt the King would start a new war as soon as he was returned to his kingdom, and, armed with the laser cannons, he would win it in a few hours. Sabre leant on the rampart and gazed across the forest, pondering. He would have to go to Torrian’s fortress and disable the weapons, since they were too heavy to steal from under an army’s nose.
Torrian would also have to die now. He was a vindictive man who would want revenge, and, having once owned such powerful weapons, he would not rest until he had more. Now that the Death Zone was gone, crossing the Badlands to find more would be fairly easy. Some men would still die from radiation poisoning, but Torrian would get what he wanted in the end. He straightened and turned at the sound of footsteps. Tassin approached, her eyes skipping off the empty cradle to meet his with deep sorrow in their depths. She looked lovely in one of her rich court gowns, this one a deep burgundy with salmon pink lace on the sleeves and skirt and a matching bodice hugging her tiny waist. Her hair was swept up in a simple, elegant coil, and a delicate emerald necklace nestled in the hollow of her throat.
She came to him and slipped her hand into his. “I suppose we should have expected this to happen.”
“Oh, I did. Torrian would never leave such powerful weapons in the hands of a lesser king, especially a dolt like Dellon. All he’s done is signed his own death warrant, though. I guess he didn’t expect you to return, or me, for that matter. It’s a pity he didn’t blow his own head off while he was learning how to use them, but I guess that would be too much to hope for. This means I’ll have to kill him as soon as he returns to his kingdom.”
"How will you do it?" she asked.
“I’ll snipe him. It will be quicker and more merciful than he deserves, but no one will see me. I’ll also have to disable those laser cannons, or whatever shithead cousin inherits might be just as gung-ho with them as Torrian. We won’t be safe as long as they’re in enemy hands.”
Her eyes widened in alarm. “That will be dangerous.”
“Not all that dangerous, for me.” He smiled. “He may have got his hands on modern weapons that can be used against us, but you have the best weapon of all.”
“What?”
“Me.”
She frowned and shook her head. “You’re not –”
“Yeah, I am. It’s okay, really. Tarl’s right, this is what I do. It’s what I am, and I’m good at it. With me on your side, you’ve got no worries. I have one huge advantage over all other weapons, too.”
“What’s that?”
“I can’t be turned against you.”
She looked down at his hand, biting her lip. “I really don’t want you to have to do this, Sabre.”
“I know. I must, though, and you know it.”
“Yes. I wish it was different. To me, you’re the man I love, not a weapon. I don’t care what you or Tarl say. I will never think of you like that.”
“Hey.” He cupped her chin with his free hand and raised her head to gaze into her eyes. “I know that. It’s just one of the many reasons I love you, and I want to do this for you – for us. I have a stake in our future, too, you know.”
She nodded. “Yes, you do. I hope that makes it easier for you.”
“Hell, this isn’t a hard mission. Piece of cake, in fact. There’s no way a bunch of primitives, even armed with modern weapons, which I bet they can barely use, can hope to win against a cyber, or even be a threat. I won’t get a scratch, I guarantee it.”
“Normally I would object to being called a primitive, but I won’t argue with you on that point today.”
“Good.” He smiled. “You’re not quite a cave woman, but you do have some pretty hairy attributes.”
She giggled. “Like what?”
“Like being the most diabolically determined female in the universe, luckily for me, and a warrior queen, of course. And you’re not coming with me.”
“I know.” Tassin stepped closer and slipped her arms around him. “I wish I could, but I’m needed here, so you’ll have to manage alone. Or take some men.”
He hugged her. “No, I don’t need any help; they’ll only get in the way.”
“Promise me you’ll be careful.”
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head, inhaling the warm clean scent of her hair, which reminded him of roses. “That’s like telling a shark to be careful in a pond full of minnows. This will be like child’s play to me, so don’t worry, okay? I’d offer to bring you his head, but I intend to blow it into a red mist.”
She shuddered. “I don’t want his head. I just want an end to strife, and with Torrian, this is the only way, I think.”
“Yeah, I should have killed him last time I was here, then he wouldn’t have been able to hurt Dena and put that little shit, Dellon, on your throne. It’s time to end him.”
She managed a smile, although it was clearly forced. "If you’re suspected of it, it will start a war with Pradish, because I won’t hand you over for execution.”
“Even if you did, they’d have a hell of a job trying to chop off my head.”
“If you think I will even let them try, you’re very much mistaken. If his investigators accuse you, I’ll give you an alibi, but unfortunately I have the greatest motive for wanting him dead, other than Dena, and no one else knows what he did to her.”
“I doubt they’ll accuse me,” he said. “They won’t be able to prove anything, even if they do, so tell them I went exploring or something.”
“Unfortunately, it will throw Pradish into chaos, since he has no heir. His cousins will vie for the throne.”
“Good. It will keep them busy. If it causes too much shit, they should hold elections and become a democracy. It’s time Omega Five modernised, since it will soon be rejoining the rest of civilised society. I’m sure a thriving tourist trade will spring up, for people who want a taste of medieval culture.”
She drew back to look up at him. “What about Arlin? Do you think it should also be democratic?”
“Hey, Arlin’s got a great queen, but, in all honesty, I’d rather you weren’t one. I’d much rather live in a comfy little cottage, not a big draughty castle, and think how much more time we’d have to spend together if you weren’t busy all day with affairs of state?”
“That’s true. I’ve never considered the option of stepping down. I was born to my post, and giving it up is hard to contemplate, especially after we fought so hard to regain it. There is something to be said of anonymity and a simple life, though. Running a kingdom is hard work.”
“You should give it some serious thought,” he said. “We had to get rid of Dellon, so it was still worth it. I’d give up being a cyber in a heartbeat if I could, and I was born to my post, too. Be glad you have the option.”
“I am. I will think about it.”
****
King Sharmian gazed across the field at the distant dark mass of Torrian's army, his eyes narrowed in the early morning sunlight. For a month he had retreated across his lands, leading Torrian on a meandering course that kept him away from towns and villages, always staying out of his reach. Mounted raiding parties had caused minor skirmishes and cost a few lives, but Torrian's foot soldiers could not catch up, and the armies had yet to meet in battle. Sharmian was weary of running now. He longed to confront Torrian in an all-out battle, but heeded Tassin's advice and kept away. When he spoke of making a stand, Dena reminded him of it.
Sharmian raised his spyglass, and his mouth dropped open in surprise. An entire legion of soldiers had broken away from the main host and marched towards Sharmian's camp. As he watched, a second company detached and headed towards him. A squirm of fear went through his gut, and he studied their banners. A rearing golden stallion on a royal blue field waved in the wind, and his heart leapt. Lowering his glass, he turned to the general who stood beside him.
"Ready the troops. Queen Tassin's men are leaving Torrian's camp. If his men attack them, we will join them in battle and crush that bastard."
The general saluted and marched off to shout orders at the men, rousing them to arms. Sharmian glanced down as a hand slipped into his, smiling at Dena.
"Queen Tassin has triumphed," he said. "Her troops are leaving Torrian."
She smiled at him. "I knew Sabre wouldn't fail."
He raised her hand to kiss the back of it. "That man is amazing."
"Will you fight Torrian now?"
"Yes. With Tassin’s seasoned troops on my side, we will crush him and take him to her in chains."
"I think she'll like that. And so will I."
Sharmian arrived at the castle two weeks later, with a battered Torrian in chains. He confided to Sabre that Dena had taken her revenge in many little ways, chuckling at the variety of ideas she had come up with to make Torrian's life a misery. Sharmian had contented himself with a good punch that had blackened Torrian's eye. Dellon had been convicted of treason and sent to the dungeons a few days after his defeat.
The day after Sharmian’s arrival, Tassin convened her court for Torrian’s audience, and settled upon her throne, surrounded by her court and adorned with the trappings of her rank. She had to put on a show of censure for the benefit of her court, to ensure suspicion did not fall on her or Sabre when Torrian met his end. The King was brought before her in chains, smeared with mud and blood, his rich clothes in rags. She had asked Sabre to attend, and he stood on her right, clad in a simple grey suit. He clasped his hands behind his back in a cyber's resting stance, which he adopted without thought.
Dena stood on the Queen’s left, with Sharmian beside her. Torrian glared at them all with equal venom when the soldiers stopped him in front of the dais, forcing him to look up at Tassin. She scowled at him, her dark eyes filled with hate.
"King Torrian. You colluded with my cousin to usurp my appointed regent, then sought to stop me from reclaiming my throne. In addition, you imprisoned Princess Dena, and treated her brutally. What have you to say?"
His lips curled in a sneer. "I do not answer to you. Or to anyone! You can do nothing to me."
"This is true, unfortunately. However, I have signed alliances with Mandor and Olgara, and any future attempts by you to interfere with the Kingdom of Arlin will be met with deadly force. You are banished from all three kingdoms. I also hereby claim recompense for the suffering of my people due to your plotting, and lay a tithe on Pradish. For the next fifty years, you will pay it or the three kingdoms of this alliance will invade and take it by force. The tithe will be paid annually, in gold."
"I will pay you nothing!"
Tassin's knuckles whitened as she gripped the scarred arms of her throne. "Then it will be taken from you."
"You will pay in blood if you try, and you will not succeed. I have the weapons that spit light that you used against me, so you will not prevail."
"Then you will start a war that will doom all of us and destroy this world, just as the ancients almost did."
"I will crush you!"
Tassin lifted her head in regal disdain. "He is mad. Take him away."
The guards marched the King out, and Tassin shot Sabre a quick glance before she rose and left the throne room through the door at the back. A hubbub started as her nobles conferred. Sabre hesitated, glancing at Dena, who chewed her lip, then followed the Queen to her chambers. She stood before the big glass-paned doors that opened into the gardens. The soft cream curtains billowed in the breeze, and a faint frown furrowed her brow as she glanced around at his entry.
Tassin walked into the garden, and Sabre caught up and fell into step beside her. After a few paces she stopped and turned to him. "You know what will make me really happy, don’t you?"
"Yeah." He sighed and sat on a bench. "But I still have to sort out all the shit in my head. Most of it was force-fed to me, some is the result of the trauma I experienced, and the stuff that should be there, isn't. That's what Tarl says, and I think he's right. I have to try to adjust to being a human being. Can you understand that?"
She sank down beside him. "Yes, I think so, but we must be betrothed. Otherwise there will be suitors vying for my hand and that will be tiresome."
"Okay." He smiled, and Tassin slipped her hand into his.
"Next week, at the celebration of my return and Dena's marriage, I'll make you a lord, then all that will remain will be for you to propose. Once we're married, you'll be the Prince Consort." She hesitated. "For a while, at least. I have thought about your suggestion, and it appeals to me. I shall start the process for democratisation, but I’ll have to rule until a president is elected, then I’ll step down. We will have that little cottage in the woods, where we can live and raise our children in peace."
He glanced at her, raising his brows. "I can't have children. I explained that to you."
"I know, but I want them. Will you ask Tarl if what was done to you can be reversed?"
"What if it can’t?" He gazed across the garden. "I don't know if that's such a good idea, anyway. I have alien DNA, remember?"
"Yes, but I don't see what harm that can do. You have... a heritage from a higher being. How can that be a bad thing?"
Sabre shook his head. "This isn't something we have to deal with now."
"No. For now, I'm just happy we can live peacefully, and you won't ever have to fight again."
Sabre turned to face her, and she met his gaze as he raised a hand to stroke her hair where it curled around her ear, marvelling at how soft her skin was. His fingers traced the curve of her cheek and came to rest beneath her jaw. His heart ached with the strange, sometimes painful emotion she evoked in him, which he had come to treasure. It made him feel alive, and human, and the look in her eyes made him feel important. To her, he knew he was, just as she was to him. To her, he was human. He leant forward and kissed her, and her hands crept around his neck and pulled him closer. When he drew back, her azure eyes sparkled. She smiled and hugged him, and he held her close.
Sabre gazed across the garden, where birds carolled in the trees and insects buzzed about their business. A breeze stirred the yellowing autumnal leaves, sending some fluttering to the grass, where stoic gardeners raked them up. The prospect of a peaceful life appealed to him on many levels, but the bitter voice that shouted its vitriol from the dark recess of his mind still mocked him whenever he thought about how much he wanted to be human, and he could not silence it, no matter how hard he tried. Cyborg!
****
Sabre crouched atop a shallow knoll and studied the fortress on the far side of the valley, using the tiny camera in the brow band, which gave him a magnified view of Torrian’s stronghold. A village surrounded the collection of tall, brown stone buildings, poorly defended, in his opinion, by a rather low crenulated rampart. A river had been diverted to pass around the castle in walled canals, forming a moat. Sabre had left Tassin’s castle the day after Torrian had departed, guarded by a battalion of her men, to be escorted to the border and released. The worry in her eyes had warmed his heart when she had said goodbye, and he wished there was some way to convince her that the only person who had cause for concern was Torrian.
Sabre had opted to disable the laser cannons first, and the easiest way to do that was to destroy the power crystals. Once Torrian was dead, whoever took over, whether it was one of his cousins or a democratic government, was unlikely to attack Arlin. Still, he wanted to make sure Pradish could never threaten Arlin again.
Sabre watched the castle until after midnight, then mounted his horse and set off across the valley. A steady trot brought him to the village within half an hour, and he tethered his mount to a tree on the outskirts and loped through the deserted streets. A couple of dogs barked as he ghosted past, and once he had to avoid a couple of wandering soldiers, most likely members of the Watch, but, for the most part, even they were asleep at this time of night. When he arrived at the castle, the drawbridge was lowered and the portcullis raised. Evidently Torrian did not think he was at risk, which was mighty foolish of him, in Sabre’s opinion.
Two guards marched up and down just inside the portcullis, and Sabre loped over the drawbridge when they turned away and took cover in the darkness of the arched, two-metre deep gateway. The men passed each other in the middle of the road on their patrol, and he waited in the shadows until they were together, then strode towards them. They stopped and gaped at him in surprise, the usual reaction of a normal man to an unexpected event, and he used the second of shock recovery time to reach them. He punched them in unison, one with each fist, using just enough strength to knock them unconscious, and they collapsed with a rattle of armour and clatter of spears. Sabre dragged them into the guardhouse and dumped them on the floor, closed the door and headed for the closest stairs that led to the battlements.
The scanners detected four more sentries patrolling the ramparts, and he ascended the steps and paused at the top. He tracked the men until they moved away from him, and then trotted to the closest laser cannon. He used the cyber’s night vision, and there was no moon, so the guards would be almost blind in the gloom. The few guttering torches on the walls only made it worse for them, too. Pausing beside the weapon, he crouched and groped under the tarpaulin for the power pack eject button, popped the crystal out and tucked it into the pouch he had brought to carry them in.
The sentries still wandered away, and he trotted to the next weapon and repeated the procedure. He waited for a pair of guards to pass beyond a wall before going to the next laser cannon. It was really unfair, he mused, to use all his hi-tech capabilities against a bunch of primitives. Not a challenge at all. His only impairment was the presence of so much stone, something not found in a modern environment. Half an hour of power pack collection disarmed all the weapons on the battlements without raising the alarm. Torrian had mounted all but one, which, Sabre guessed, was probably in the armoury with the ammo. Finding the arsenal presented a little more of a challenge, due to the stone walls, and the longer it took, the more chance there was of the gatehouse sentries being discovered, or waking up. He needed a guide.
The guards patrolled in pairs, so he would have to knock one man out and take the other hostage. The battlements were too exposed for that, with nowhere to hide the unconscious man, so he descended to the cobbled courtyard and checked the scanners for the closest pair of sentries. Not finding any, he cursed, then remembered the already unconscious gate guards. They were still out cold, and he used one man’s belt to tie him up, then slapped the other one until he came around with a gasp, opening his mouth to bellow in alarm. Sabre clamped a hand over the sentry’s mouth and raised a finger to his lips.
“Make a sound, and you die.” He drew a laser and held it up. “Do you know what this is?”
The man, a scruffy individual with red hair and a pockmarked face, nodded.
Sabre removed his hand. “Good. Now, you’re going to tell me where the laser cannons’ ammunition is stored, got it?”
The sentry looked confused, shaking his head.
“The magical weapons,” Sabre explained. “Tell me to where the crystals that power them are stored, and don’t lie, because I’ll know.”
The guard nodded, and Sabre gripped his arm and hauled him to his feet, shoving him against the wall. “Talk.”
The redhead gulped. “Go across the courtyard, around the side of the main building, and all the way to the back of the alley. On the left is the stable yard, and on the right are storerooms. The third door along is the armoury.”
The cyber informed Sabre that the man told the truth, and he nodded, then slammed the guard’s head against the wall, knocking him out again. The poor sod would have one hell of a headache when he woke up, he reflected. As a precaution, he tore up one of the men’s cloaks and bound the second man too, gagging both of them. It did not hurt to be cautious. Closing the door behind him, he left the guardhouse and followed the sentry’s directions. It was now almost two in the morning, and the fortress was deserted except for sleepy guards, most of whom had found somewhere to sit and doze. His night vision made the courtyard and alley almost as bright as day, but a glance with normal vision assured him that it was, in fact, pitch dark.
The armoury had a stout oak door bound with iron, and the lock was primitive. That posed more of a problem than a modern access panel, which the cyber could have hacked in a few seconds. Kicking the door in would make too much noise, and he did not have a lock pick. The structural scanners revealed a sturdy bolt, too strong to easily break with pressure, and he cursed, glancing around. He probably should have asked the gate guard where the keys were. For a moment he was flummoxed, then he drew a laser and considered it. The laser cannon power crystals would not fit his pistols, but he had brought a good supply of extra crystals with him. Burning through wood with a laser was not ideal, especially with the risk of fire it posed, but it seemed to be the only option.
Setting the beam to fine, he aimed it at the door just above the lock, switched to normal vision and pressed the trigger. The brilliant blue light seared his eyes even so, but it would have blinded him had he been using night vision. The laser made a soft hum as it crisped through the wood, yellow flames sprouting from the edges of the incision. The seasoned oak did not catch fire easily, but he had to pause twice to snuff out flames before they took hold. When the laser had burnt all the way around the lock, Sabre holstered the hot weapon and gave the door a shove that broke it free of the lock and made it swing inwards. Switching back to night vision, he entered a room stacked with swords, spears, shields, lances, bows and bushels of arrows. The box of power packs was at the back, and it looked like it contained most of the spares he had brought across the desert. The missing cannon, however, was not there.
Sabre paused to consider this. Chances were, Torrian had it mounted on his bedroom wall, or in his throne room, as a trophy, alongside the stuffed bear heads and antlers, and, if it was loaded, one power pack would not be enough to do much damage. There were several power crystals missing, but they might have been used for training or pot shots; he was sure Torrian would have amused himself with his new toys. If not for the stone walls, he could have located the missing weapon with the scanners, but searching for it would take far too long and be risky. He still had to get rid of the power crystals he had, which he had no intention of lugging around. They were useless without the weapons that used them, and detaching one of the mounted cannons would be risky, too. He had intended to take the loose one, but now his plans had changed.
Selecting a crystal from the box, he switched to normal vision and hurled it at the far wall. It shattered with a fairly loud bang and a hot flash. Oddly, the ten-centimetre-long crystals were cool, yet the amplified light they emitted was super-hot. Sabre threw the rest of the power crystals against the wall in quick succession, since the light and noise might attract attention. When three crystals remained, a warning light alerted him to the scanners information, which showed a life sign in the doorway behind him. Sabre spun and reached the sleepy sentry in a bound, sending him sprawling with a punch. Returning to the box, he smashed the last three crystals, switched back to night vision and headed for the door. The sentry struggled to sit up, pawing at his bloody nose. Sabre kicked him in the head as he passed, knocking him senseless, and sprinted towards the gate. If one guard was roused, chances were others would be too.
Several life signs moved towards the armoury on the scanners, two of them in the alley Sabre would have to pass through to reach the gate. He might be able to slip past them in the dark, but the brow band’s lights would probably give him away. Usually, on a stealth mission like an assassination, a special cover was fitted to the brow band that hid the lights whilst leaving the sensors exposed. The control unit’s lights served two purposes, first to identify a cyber so he was never mistaken for a normal man, and secondly to provide information about the host’s functionality and physical status. A technician could tell at a glance whether a cyber was experiencing a variety of impairments, and most owners knew enough to glean an idea of a cyber’s problems by studying the lights. Of course, a simpler method was to ask the cyber about it, but occasionally that was not an option. Everyone knew that a lot of red lights meant the cyber was damaged. He wished bio-status was one of the indicators available on a brow band, so Tarl did not have to ask him about it all the time.
Sabre chose speed instead of stealth. The alarm would soon be raised when the senseless guard outside the armoury was discovered, anyway, at which time someone would probably close the portcullis and severely hamper his escape. He did not fancy having to leap off the battlements into the moat. It would be cold and wet. He raced towards the two guards in the alley, who gaped at him, able only to see a collection of little lights approaching them at high speed, accompanied by the soft thud of footfalls. Being superstitious primitives, they leapt aside with alarmed shouts as he passed them. As he sprinted towards the gate, he regretted not having flattened them when they continued to bellow in alarm, and two men raced for the portcullis. A cyber was capable of a flat out run of over forty-five kilometres per hour, but it would not be enough. A soldier hit the lever that released the portcullis, and it rumbled down.
“Bugger.”
Sabre swerved and headed for the flight of steps that led up to the battlements, where men converged to block his remaining escape route. Now things would get ugly, and possibly deadly. He drew a laser and reached into the pouch that contained the power crystals he had taken from the battlement lasers, grabbed one and hurled it at the soldiers. It shattered on the wall behind them with a bang and flash, making them jump and recoil with shouts of alarm. Sabre bounded up the steps three at a time, hurling another crystal to add to the confusion. The bright flashes would rob the soldiers of whatever night sight they had, although they also forced him to switch off the night vision each time. At the top of the steps, he shoved a man off the battlements and sprinted for the outer wall as the rest finally drew their swords.
Leaping onto a crenulation without slowing, he sprang off it. The wall was not high enough that he would be hurt if he landed on solid ground, and he hoped he had sufficient momentum to clear the moat. The ground rushed up at him, and he glimpsed glinting water just before he plunged into it. Sabre cursed, but let himself sink to the bottom. Archers had probably been dragged from their beds by now, who would take pot shots at him as he climbed out if he did so here. His feet hit a muddy bottom, and he turned downstream and swam up to where there were less likely to be obstacles like sunken trees that might snag him. With more than ten minutes of air, he would be far downstream of the castle before he was forced to surface.
When he swam to the surface nine minutes later, the fortress was a distant silhouette, torch-waving men running around on the ramparts. It reminded him of his escape from the Orokan city, four years ago, although that had been in a swamp. He swam to the bank, hauled himself out and made his way to his horse, which he rode to his camp in the forest. Now he just had to wait for the furore to calm down, and kill Torrian.
Sabre waited in the forest for two days while search parties roamed up and down the river, then invaded the forest, but none came close to his camp. On the third day, the countryside was devoid of searching soldiers, and he returned to his shallow knoll to spy on the castle. Using the brow band’s magnifier, he watched soldiers and officers come and go from the fortress and patrol the walls, waiting for his quarry to appear. At dusk, he shot a small buck for dinner before settling down in his little tent for the night. The following morning, he returned to his vantage at dawn, yawning and scratching his itchy scalp. He needed a bath. The river had been fairly clean, but without soap the dip had done no good. Stretching out on the grass, he magnified the fort and scanned it for the pompous, overdressed King.
Torrian appeared on the ramparts at midday, accompanied by two older men who were presumably his generals or advisors. The former, judging by their military air, he deduced after watching them for a few minutes. The trio wandered along the wall, pausing to pull a tarpaulin off a now-useless laser cannon.
Sabre smiled and muttered, “Yup, they’re just useless pieces of metal now.”
To his surprise, one of the generals drew a glittering power crystal from a pouch and pushed it into the laser cannon. So, they still had one, but it would do them little good. Ten full-power shots would expend it. Still, it was annoying. He drew a laser pistol and adjusted it to full power and fine, lay down on his stomach again and activated the cyber’s targeting scanners. Blue cross-hairs appeared in his magnified vision, and a red cross marked the spot where his laser was aimed. It was rather like one of the VR games he had played with Fairen, he mused, only more fun.
“Time to die, shithead.”
The trio wandered over to another laser cannon, and Sabre watched them, curious. The general pulled the tarp off it and produced a second power crystal, loading the weapon, and the cyber frowned. Just how many more power crystals did they have? Had Torrian already smuggled more across the desert? It made no difference, though, Torrian was still going to die, but Sabre decided to scout around a bit afterwards and see what he could find out. Raising the laser, he lined up the red cross with the blue cross-hairs positioned on Torrian’s head, his aim rock steady. The King faced one of the officers, side-on to Sabre, and spoke animatedly, gesturing. Sabre wondered what his last words would be as he pressed the trigger. At the same instant, Torrian’s head exploded. The officer recoiled as the red mist sprayed his face.
Sabre smiled. “Gotcha.”
Torrian’s corpse tottered and collapsed, and the blood-splattered officer stepped back, his face stretched in horror. Sabre wondered what was going through his mind. Perhaps he thought Torrian’s head had become so swollen it had finally exploded on its own. He chuckled. He was quite glad to kill Torrian, who had caused Tassin so much trouble and hurt Dena. Then again, he had a lot to thank the King for, too, for if not for him, Sabre would never have met the feisty Queen or got free of the control unit. Nonetheless, Torrian was a brutish rapist pig, and the world would be a better place without him. The men on the ramparts ran around in confusion, and Sabre continued to watch them. The man Torrian had been speaking to crouched over the laser cannon he had just loaded, and, to Sabre’s surprise, swung it towards his position.
The cyber flattened himself as much as he could, and the control unit flashed a warning in his mind, that the cannon had just gone hot. That did not unduly surprise him, but he was fairly sure he was pretty much invisible in the grass, and almost a kilometre from the castle, to boot. The ground half a metre to his right hissed and turned molten in an arrow-straight furrow, the grass that edged it catching alight as a high-powered laser beam cut through it. Sabre rolled down the slope, out of sight. The man was a fairly good shot, although he had compensated for wind when it did not affect a laser. That meant he had used the telescopic sights, which was odd for a primitive, although not impossible. The control unit flashed a warning, and he glanced at the scanner info, his blood chilling. A cyber emerged from the fortress, mounted on an air-bike. It seemed that Torrian had been in contact with spacers, and Sabre suspected who it might be. Since he had lost Tassin’s support, Manutim had probably found a new ally in Torrian.
Rising to his feet, Sabre sprinted for the cover of the trees five hundred metres to his right, another hissing furrow of glowing soil slashing the ground behind him. He was pretty sure whoever had ordered the cyber to hunt him down did not realise that he was one too, as he risked losing his expensive hi-tech equipment. He should have, though, for only a crack marksman with a sniper scope, or a cyber, could have made the shot that had killed Torrian. Safe behind a tree, he checked his lasers, both of which were fully charged, while he waited for the cyber to arrive. He watched him on the scanners and listened to the approaching whine of the air-bike, which stopped two hundred metres away, just beyond the trees. The cyber dismounted and approached on foot. The structural scanners mapped the terrain between him and his foe, who dodged from tree to tree.
Sabre crouched and peered around the tree, a laser aimed. As the cyber darted between two trees, he snapped off a shot that missed by a hair. He had little chance of hitting the cyber; he had to wait for the unit to attack, then he would be forced to break cover. The enemy cyber stopped behind a tree next Sabre’s, and he tensed, his heart speeding up. The cyber leapt into the open, dropped into a roll and snapped off four shots that hit the tree where Sabre had been an instant before. He was already diving away, firing at the rolling cyber. His shots hit the ground the cyber had just vacated, and he dodged behind another tree. When two armed cybers fought, he thought bitterly, it generally continued without injury until their weapons ran out, then changed to unarmed combat.
According to the scanners, his foe had a fully stocked weapons’ harness, so he had just as much ammo as Sabre. He had no intention of wasting his ammunition on such an elusive target, however; he might need it when the rest of the shitheads in the fortress joined the fight, although he would prefer to forego that pleasure. Changing tactics, he holstered his weapons and broke cover, racing towards the cyber, who snapped off four more shots that hit Sabre in the chest. His skin flamed with pain, but he reached his foe in a few strides, bowled him over and straddled him. Sabre’s unusual tactic evidently took his enemy by surprise, since this was not something a cyber would do. Sabre smashed his fist into the cyber’s face, then jerked his arms apart as his foe tried to jam his lasers into Sabre’s ears, bashing his arms away. Sabre punched the cyber in the face again, smashing his nose flat, and rolled away as his opponent tossed him off with a powerful heave.
Sabre lunged after the cyber as he sprang to his feet, tackled him around the legs and brought him down again. The cyber still tried to aim his lasers, but Sabre smacked them away each time, whilst inflicting damage with his fists. The enemy cyber was loath to give up charged weapons, but as long as he held them he could not use his fists. The butt of a laser pistol cracked into the side of Sabre’s head, making stars spin in his vision. His opponent seemed to be a tad slower than he should be, indicating that he might be a B-grade. The uneven terrain made acrobatics inadvisable, but the cyber was unable to shoot Sabre again now that he was close enough to punch the weapons away.
The fight continued in a graceful ballet of lunging, leaping, punching, blocking, rolling and diving, the close combat Sabre forced on his foe earning both fighters plenty of bruises. The enemy cyber got off occasional shots that missed, and his lasers died. Since Sabre stayed close to him, his adversary could not reload, and tossed the weapons away to free his hands. Sabre charged him, receiving a powerful punch on his head that made it ring like a gong, but he flattened his adversary and straddled him again, only this time he was armed and the other cyber was not. Sabre snatched a laser from a thigh holster as his opponent grabbed the knife in his webbing. Sabre gripped the cyber’s throat and pressed the laser to his eye. The cyber plunged the knife into Sabre’s flank, smashing his laser away.
The fighters rolled away in opposite directions and leapt to their feet, and the conflict resumed. Sabre revised his tactics again. He had thought brute force might bring a quick victory, but it had only led to quick injuries. He wanted the fight over with, although it seemed that the men in the castle did not want to get involved in a cyber fight, and the laser cannon operator was presumably afraid of hitting the wrong cyber.
Sabre’s heart cruised at two hundred and thirty beats per minute, sweat ran down him, and his bio-status was at eighty-seven per cent. He fell back into normal cyber fighting style, letting the control unit guide him. If he was up against a B-grade, as he suspected, he would win with these tactics, due to his split second advantage in speed. He scanned his opponent for the weaknesses a B-grade would have, and found that his left humerus was not plated and he had a gap on the left side of his skull plating.
Sabre leapt high in a spinning kick, but his foe dived into a backflip, evading Sabre’s boot. It took another half an hour, but he landed a kick on his opponent’s left humerus and snapped the bone. Still, the fight raged on, and Sabre’s bio-status dropped to seventy-four per cent. He suspected that his enemy’s was lower, however, since the B-grade was slowing. Even so, defeating a cyber was almost impossible, even for another cyber. Usually, it ended up in a double death draw. Even if he did win, it would leave him exhausted. Coming to a decision, he sprinted for the air-bike, the B-grade hot on his heels. He leapt aboard the vehicle, which heeled on its antigravity under his weight, and thumbed the ‘start’ button. His foe jumped aboard, but Sabre kicked him off and gunned the air-bike, shooting away.
The cyber chased after him for a few paces, then stopped, but Sabre had a good weapon at his disposal now, and swung the air-bike towards his opponent. The cyber sprinted for the trees, zigzagging. He turned an instant before Sabre smashed the bike into him and grabbed the front of it, being lifted off his feet. Sabre accelerated towards the nearest tree. The impact sent him tumbling over the handlebars, but he twisted and landed on his feet, swinging around to face his enemy. The cyber still clung to the smashed front of the bike, which drifted away, tilted under his weight. His chest was pushed in, bending his reinforced ribs, and he gaped for air. Sabre straightened, his breath coming in rapid gasps, and watched the B-grade die. Cybers always died ugly, cruel deaths, he reflected bitterly, simply because they were so hard to kill. The B-grade’s brow band sparkled with red lights, and he convulsed, trying to suck air into his flattened chest. His hands slipped off the bike and he collapsed, twitching.
Sabre went over to him and crouched, gazing down at him. “Sorry, brother.”
It seemed as if the B-grade’s eyes met his for an instant, and his neck muscles jerked in a nod, but it was probably just spasms. This was only the third cyber he had killed, in all the fights he had had. Soil hissed in a molten line beside him, and Sabre yanked out his knife, slashed through the B-grade’s webbing and stripped it off, then leapt up and loped into the forest. The idiot who manned the laser cannon was still compensating for the wind, though not as much. The bike was wrecked, and Sabre sprinted for his horse, scooping up the B-grade’s discarded weapons on his way. The webbing was full of power crystals and grenades, doubling his arsenal. He tightened the startled, shying beast’s girth and swung aboard, urging the gelding into a canter towards the village.
As he expected, when he got halfway around the village, the scanners picked up a craft parked in a field beyond it. It had not been there when he had gone to the castle three days before. Sabre urged his horse into a gallop, knowing the spacers would be heading for their shuttle, too. Three horsemen came into view on a road on his left, also galloping for the shuttle. They knew if he reached it before them, he would take it. He had already cost them an air-bike and a cyber; a shuttle would hurt their pockets even more. Sabre stood up in his stirrups to absorb his mount’s bouncing stride with his knees, like a jockey, and drew a laser. He sighted along it, not needing the targeting scanners, and snapped off three shots.
Two men crumpled and fell off their horses; the third slumped, but hung on. Sabre shot him again, and he joined his buddies on the road. The loose horses slowed to a canter, then turned and headed home. Sabre stopped and searched the bodies, coming away with more weapons and cash. He remounted his horse and cantered to the shuttle, where he stripped off the beast’s tack and released it. The craft was a V-class Etron Mini-bus, often used by tourist companies, economical and comfortable. He settled into the pilot’s seat and aimed the cyber at the console, hacking the AI in two seconds. Guiding the shuttle into the air, he mused that, thanks to the spacers, he at least had a quick form of transport home. Otherwise he would have had to endure three weeks of posterior pain on top of his bruises and exhaustion. His head pounded, his arms throbbed and his fists ached, and he took two painkillers as the shuttle shot towards Arlin.