Chapter Eleven

 

The cyber's flashing proximity warning light woke Sabre, and he opened his eyes to find Martis approaching the bed. The tech stopped, looking guilty and a little nervous. Sabre sat up and rubbed his eyes, then went into the bathroom and showered. When he emerged, Estrelle and Martis were sitting in the lounge, talking and eating snacks. Sabre joined them, clad in his cyber clothes but without the weapons' harness, the strip of white silk hiding the brow band, and picked at the plate of finger food. The control unit informed him that he had slept for four hours.

Martis leant forward. "What's your status?"

"Eighty-seven per cent."

"Wow, that's great. You're definitely exceptional, even for an A-grade."

"Yay."

Estrelle poured another protein shake and handed it to Sabre, who sipped it.

Martis shovelled chips into his mouth and munched loudly. "The fight's at some underground arena not far from here. The guy who arranged it is going to take us there. We get half the money up front, half when it's over. We're supposed to be there in half an hour."

Sabre held out his injured hand. "Strap this up for me."

When his hand was bandaged again, Sabre followed Martis and Estrelle down to the lobby, where a hotel employee, whom Martis had evidently made the deal with, introduced them to a plump, balding man wearing flashy clothes and too much bling. He grinned and rubbed his hands together when he spotted Sabre, his air of smug satisfaction increasing.

"He even looks like a cyber. Hell, he could be a cyber twin. You sure he's not a cyber?"

"Positive," Sabre said.

The procurer led them into the street, wending his way through the throngs of underdressed people that seemed to come out mostly at dusk. Not far from the hotel, he entered another shiny skyscraper and they took the lift down to the basement. The murmuring of a crowd was audible even before they entered the underground arena, where ten tiers of padded seats encircled a thirty-metre-diameter area covered with terra-foam, a sand-mimicking artificial flooring. The place was packed, and several floating cameras revealed that the fight would be vidimaged to a wider audience. Powerful overhead lights illuminated the arena floor, and snack vendors circulated amongst the crowd, shouting their wares. The procurer showed them to a plush, well-lighted office just inside the door, where two large, handsome men waited, their manicured appearance, gleaming metallic clothes and sparkly accoutrements screaming vast wealth. The organisers handed over a pouch of credit wafers, which Sabre gave to Martis.

"Try not to lose it."

"I'm going to bet it all on you."

"No, not all of it. Accidents happen."

The procurer guided them down to the arena and indicated two empty seats in the front row for Estrelle and Martis, then opened a gate that gave access to the arena. Sabre strolled onto the floor, and a subdued cheer arose from the crowd. He was the free man, and, even though the spectators expected him to lose, they were on his side since he was pitted against a fighting machine. The cyber waited on the far side of the arena, his handler beside him. Sabre went over to inspect him, then walked back to the seats where Estrelle and Martis sat. The lowest row was three metres above the floor to allow for wall-walking, and Martis leant down as Sabre reached him.

"Be on your guard," the cyber warned. "Something's not right here."

"What do you mean?"

"These are crooks. That much I already knew, but they're the dangerous kind."

"Why do you say that?"

Sabre glanced at his opponent. "They lied. He's an A-grade."

Martis frowned. "I'll call it off."

"No. You'll get your throat slit. It's too late now. I just have to wonder what else they lied about."

"If he's an A-grade, and they don't stop the fight at first blood, it'll be to the death, and two A-grades -"

"I know. Give Estrelle the money and tell her to take it back to the hotel and lock herself in the room if the fight isn't stopped at first blood."

Martis shook his head. "She can't get into the room without you to open the door."

"Shit. I'm not going to be in any state to protect you two if I have to kill this cyber. Then she must hide somewhere. I'll find her."

"Okay." Martis grimaced, glancing at the other cyber. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

A booming voice announced the fight, and the crowd fell silent. The cyber's handler gave him his order, and Sabre's keen hearing picked it up. He looked up at Martis.

"This is going to be bad. He just told the cyber to kill me."

"Oh, shit."

Sabre nodded. "Apparently, what these freaks really want to see is someone getting killed."

Martis glanced past Sabre, and his eyes widened. Sabre kept his back turned and tracked the cyber who loped towards him. His opponent reached the correct distance from his target and launched himself, his foot aimed at the back of Sabre's head. Sabre dropped and spun, then punched upwards to strike the cyber under his thigh and propel him up into the wall. He hit the cement spinning, and his knees buckled on impact. Sabre continued his spin and leapt, one foot lashing out at the apex of his jump. It hit his adversary on the side of the head and bludgeoned him into the wall. His skull cracked against it, and he rolled to the floor before springing up.

Sabre backed away, waiting for the next attack. The cyber circled him, but he had been ordered to attack, and did so, dropping into a forward roll. Sabre dived aside and then twisted into a flick-flack across the floor. The cyber followed at a run, but Sabre reached the far wall before him, ran up it and somersaulted over his opponent's head. As he landed, he sprang into the air and kicked as the cyber turned, but his foe ducked and lunged. Sabre twisted in mid-air, landed in a diving roll and leapt up out of reach. The cyber jumped into a spinning kick that Sabre evaded before he lunged closer to punch his opponent.

 

 

Estrelle gripped Martis' arm, her eyes wide, and he patted her hand, chewing his lip. The cybers leapt and spun, dropped and rolled, lunged and dived, moving with such speed that they seemed to blend together, clad in the same cyber issue clothes. The only way to tell them apart was the strip of white silk around Sabre's brow.

She leant closer to Martis. "He's going to get hurt, and we could end up dead, thanks to you."

"He'll win. He's ten per cent better than any other A-grade."

"But only at eight-seven per cent of his potential. I bet the other one's at a hundred per cent."

Matris nodded. "But Sabre's got more experience, and human ingenuity. He'll win."

"He's also older. If I'm not mistaken, the other one's only about three years in service. He's got the upgraded brow band."

"Sabre's not controlled by his brow band."

Estrelle's hand tightened on his arm as Sabre dropped under his rival's spinning kick and lunged at him, hit him in the jaw and jerked his head back. The sickening thud was loud in the silent arena, and she glanced at the crowd, which sat forward, intent.

A woman's voice behind Estrelle muttered, "They're both cybers."

A male voice replied, "The challenger's supposed to be a free man, but if they are, that's even better."

Estrelle turned her attention back to the fight as Sabre and the cyber continued their graceful, lethal dance. Martis swore as Sabre grabbed his opponent's arm and twisted it behind his back, tendons popping. The younger cyber twisted out of the arm lock in a smooth move, performing a backflip. Sabre kept hold of his wrist and yanked, trying to ram his opponent's head into the wall. The cyber ran up it and did another backflip, twisting his wrist from Sabre's grip. Sabre charged and smashed him into the wall.

Martis leant closer to her, not taking his eyes off the fight. "He's not fighting like a cyber. They don't do close contact, it's too dangerous."

"Why?"

"Because they're so strong."

Estrelle gasped as the young cyber bounced off the wall, and Sabre yanked him into a throat hold, trying to pin him down.

Martis swore, becoming agitated. "What's he doing? You can't choke a cyber!"

"Why don't you go down there and show him how it's done, then?"

"Yeah, right."

The young cyber threw Sabre over his shoulder, sending him crashing to the floor. Sabre rolled away as the cyber tried to kick him. He jumped up, reeling as if injured, and Martis swore again, leaning forward. The cyber leapt at Sabre, who spun aside and hit him in the back, the dull, meaty thud loud in the hush. The young cyber staggered and fell to his knees, then sprang up and spun around, his fist lashing out. Sabre ducked under it and lunged, his hands flashing out to grip his opponent's throat and hurl him backwards into the wall. The cyber cushioned the impact somewhat with his arms, but his head cracked into the concrete again.

Sabre smashed his fist into his adversary's face as he rebounded off the wall. The blow jerked his foe's head back, but he hardly seemed to feel it. He twisted sideways and sprang into a perfect backflip, his boots skimming past Sabre's nose as he jerked back to avoid them. Estrelle chewed her nails, amazed by the fluid grace with which they moved, the precision of their leaps and deadly accuracy of their kicks and punches, most of which they avoided with an ease born of split-second reflexes. They leapt metres into the air and bounced off the walls as if their legs and arms were spring-loaded, performing graceful handsprings, their spines bending into seemingly impossibly tight curves.

Sabre dropped into split that made her wince, then rolled away as his opponent tried to kick him in the head. He sprang to his feet and leapt as the younger cyber charged, twisting like a cat in mid-air to land on his feet. The cybers' agility was perfect unless they were knocked off balance, but then they hit the ground rolling and sprang up unharmed. Sweat course down them and steam rose from them in the air conditioning. She squeaked and winced as Sabre grabbed his opponent's arm in a brief hold and smashed his brow band into the side of the cyber's head. Martis squirmed and fidgeted, his hands clenched, his face set in grim lines while his eyes burnt with feverish excitement.

A trickle of blood ran down the young cyber's face where Sabre had hit him with the brow band. Sabre quit the fight, walked away and raised his arms in victory. A murmur swept through the crowd as the younger cyber loped up behind Sabre, who appeared to be oblivious to him. His opponent lunged at him from behind, a fist aimed at the back of his head. Sabre dropped and spun, grabbed the cyber's arm and slammed him into the ground, then straddled his opponent and pinned him down. The young cyber threw him off with a violent heave, and Sabre rolled away to spring up next to the wall.

Martis turned to her. "That's it, time for you to go. They're not going to stop the fight. Sabre wants you to go and find somewhere to hide, take the money. He'll find you when this is over."

She tore her eyes from the fighters' lethal grace. "But..."

"Now. This is going to get very ugly, so go, or these crooks might take the money back, see?"

"Right." She took the pouch he slipped to her underhand, tucking it into her shirt. "Make sure he gets out of here in one piece, will you?"

"I'll do my best. As soon as you've gone, I'll find the organisers and see what I can do to stop it."

"Without getting your throat slit."

"Yeah."

Estrelle rose and headed for the exit, but two burly men stepped into her path when she approached.

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.

Sabre rose and walked away a few steps, sank to his knees and back onto his haunches, bowed his head and closed his eyes. He panted, his heart hammering, and sweat dripped from his nose and chin. Silence filled the arena as the audience tried to absorb the horrific and impossible death of a peerless fighting machine at the hands of what they thought was an unaltered man. More fool them, he thought bitterly, such a thing could never happen. Even one cyber killing another in this fashion had not happened before, simply because they would never use the brutal tactics he had employed.

The gate onto the arena floor opened, and a man stepped aside to allow Martis to trot over to Sabre.

"Are you okay?"

Sabre shook his head. "What do you think?"

"Right, not, but let's get out of here, please?"

"Give me a minute."

Martis fidgeted. "I hope we have a minute."

With a grunt, Sabre climbed to his feet and headed for the gate, Martis following. The balding procurer appeared and led them back towards the exit, where the two tall, well-dressed organisers waited. One held out a pouch of wafers, which Martis snatched before retreating behind Sabre.

"What you did tonight was impossible," the other man drawled in a rich baritone. "We lost a lot of money on that fight."

"You lied," Sabre said. "Not only was that an A-grade, you were supposed to stop the fight at first blood."

"You weren't supposed to live to complain, and your sidekick wouldn't have been able to do much about it. Perhaps you aren't in any condition to do anything about it either."

"Try me."

"How did you do it?"

"You were watching, weren't you?"

The mogul nodded. "I saw the impossible happen. Cybercorp will pay a great deal for that vidimage. Perhaps I can recoup my losses."

Sabre inclined his head. "And if they tell you how I did it, it will surprise you."

"I look forward to it."

"I'm so glad I could give you something to look forward to. Enjoy the anticipation."

Sabre brushed past him and headed for the exit, Martis close behind. In the street, Sabre took a deep breath of fresh, humid air and set off towards the hotel. Martis fell into step beside him.

"We have to find Estrelle."

Sabre stopped. "Right."

Martis glanced back. "Do you think they'll try to get their money back?"

"Maybe. They know I'm hurt." Sabre consulted the scanners and turned to the right, in the direction of a shiny building. The scanners led him to a narrow, dark doorway at the side of the structure, where they found Estrelle huddled, clutching the pouch. She jumped up with a cry of joy, her smile swiftly fading at the sight of Sabre's battered face. He swung away and set off across the square. Late night revellers thronged it, most wearing very little, some nothing, and all of them drunk or drugged. Sabre thrust them aside when they came too close, and Martis elbowed others away. They reached the hotel and slipped inside, Sabre relieved to get off the street without incident.

 

 

In the hotel suite, the cyber sank onto the red-quilted king sized bed with a groan. Martis hovered, looking worried. Estrelle stowed the money in a cupboard, then sat beside Sabre.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere."

Estrelle reached out to touch his swollen cheek, recalled Martis' warning and stopped, biting her lip. "You should shower and get out of these wet clothes, then Martis can do something about your injuries. How badly are you hurt?"

"Two broken ribs, torn ligaments in my elbows and wrists, a sprained shoulder and lacerations to the inside of my cheek. And a lot of bruises, of course."

Martis said, "I don't have the necessary drugs to fix that, but I can strap your ribs up."

Estrelle looked up at him. "He probably needs a painkiller, to start with."

"Right." Martis went to the medikit and dug in it.

She turned to Sabre. "Now you know what a broken rib feels like, huh?"

"Estrelle..." Sabre took hold of her collar and tugged her closer. "Do you really imagine this is the first time I've had a broken rib?"

"Um... I guess not."

"That would be a safe guess."

Martis came back with two painkillers, and Sabre sat up to take them, wincing as bruised muscles and strained tendons protested. Estrelle helped him to peel off the sopping vest and tug off his boots and trousers. When he was stripped to his shorts, he went to shower, glad to wash off the dried sweat that prickled his skin. Martis waited with three rolls of bandages when he re-emerged, and Sabre sat down while he strapped his ribs. That done, the cyber stretched out on the bed and tried to relax, his muscles thrumming in the fight's aftermath.