Read The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice Online

Authors: T C Southwell

Tags: #lost, #despair, #humanity, #precipice

The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice (26 page)

"Pathos
acquired, docking bay four," Scorpio's husky voice said.

Fairen turned
to the commander. "Fetch him here at once!"

Shrain tapped
on the com-link, frowned at the tiny screen, then lowered it. "He
is on his way, My Lord."

"Tell them to
run."

"They already
are, My Lord."

Fairen sank to
his knees beside the cyber again, reaching out to touch his cheek.
If all his power could not save his friend, what good was it? He
remembered saying that to Sabre, not so long ago. Sabre's skin was
frozen solid. How long had he been drifting in space? Were the
doctors right? If his friend was dead, he would find who was
responsible and execute him. He owed Sabre his life, but more than
that, the cyber was the only person he liked to be around, whose
touch did not sicken him and whose gentle teasing made him laugh.
Like the big brother he had always wanted, and never thought to
have.

Shrain leant
closer. "My Lord, they're almost here." He held out a veiled
hood.

Fairen wanted
to smack it from his hand, but rose to his feet and took it,
pulling it on. Moments later, a group ran in, four of his guards
surrounding three men and a woman. Fairen recognised Tarl, Kole,
Martis and Estrelle. Tarl fell to his knees beside Sabre and
touched his brow, then his neck, giving a despairing groan. Martis
knelt on the other side of him, shaking his head.

"He's in deep
hypothermic shock," Tarl said.

"Looks like the
cyber tried to put him into cold sleep before it shut down," Martis
agreed.

"Is he alive?"
Fairen demanded, the voice distorter disguising his concern.

Tarl glanced
up. "Just barely, but yeah, sort of."

"What does that
mean?"

"He's gone into
hibernation mode, like cybers do in their caskets, but his
temperature's way too low. Cybers are genetically modified to
handle low temperatures, but... he's almost frozen."

"We could not
detect a pulse," the older doctor said.

"No, you
wouldn't," Tarl replied. "His heart is only beating at about ten
beats per minute right now."

"Can you revive
him?" Fairen asked.

"I hope
so."

"There's going
to be some cellular damage," Martis said. "Hosts are not designed
to be frozen."

"I need the
cyber interface module, to connect with the control unit and
monitor his systems," Tarl said.

Fairen
gestured, and Shrain spoke into his com-link.

"It's shut
down," Martis pointed out.

"It can be
rebooted," Estrelle said.

The older
doctor turned to one of the medics. "Fetch a heating blanket and a
stretcher."

Tarl sat back
on his haunches and shook his head. "No. He must warm up slowly,
and he mustn't be moved. I'm more concerned about the brow band."
He tapped it with his finger. "It's frozen, and, being a
superconductor, it will have lowered the temperature of his brain.
That's a good thing, provided it hasn't frozen it. The brow band
has a heat shunt that connects to the barrinium skull plating," he
explained for Fairen's benefit, "to prevent it from freezing the
brain in extreme cold. But I don't know if it will have been able
to deal with deep space."

"Depends how
long he was out there," Martis muttered.

"Judging by his
condition, more than twenty minutes." Tarl glanced up at Fairen.
"Where's Tassin, My Lord?"

"I don't
know."

"I hope she's
all right. I have no doubt that he sacrificed himself to save her,
or trying to save her. If she's dead..."

"I shall find
her." Fairen signalled to Shrain, who tapped on his com-link again,
looking martyred.

"My Lord, there
are two hundred and twenty-two life pods drifting around out
there."

"I'd say you're
looking for one with a single female occupant," Tarl said. "If
Sabre wasn't able to get in it, he sure as hell didn't put anyone
else in it before her."

Shrain
consulted his com-link. "There are two such. I shall transport them
to the docking bay."

Tarl looked
around as a group of soldiers ran in, carrying, pushing and
dragging most of the cyber repair and analysis equipment from
Pathos, which, as he recalled, belonged to Fairen anyway. They
brought it to Tarl's side, and he rummaged in a case. He drew out a
slender instrument and inserted it into the interface slot in the
edge of the control unit. A row of four green lights came on along
the top of the brow band, three of them flashing. Two turned
amber.

Estrelle said,
"It's gone into standby mode, since the host is incapacitated."

The medics
moved aside as Tarl dragged the control unit interface closer and
plugged the cable into Sabre’s brow band. The screen came to life,
and the blue, white and grey dashboard appeared. Tarl logged in
with technical codes and queried the host status.

"Heart rate...
eight beats per minute. Blood pressure, eighty over sixty. He's in
bad shape. Core temperature: twenty-seven degrees. Blood oxygen is
eighty-two per cent; bio-status... twenty-four per cent. He's
barely alive. He must have used an energy burst to be this
depleted. I need veoxxin, atremax and penadril." Two medics left to
fetch it, and Tarl tapped on the keyboard. "I'm going to activate
two more genetic sequences. The cyber has already activated the R
series and G11 to 21."

Martis peered
at the screen over Tarl's shoulder. "What sequences are you going
to switch on?"

"The F and Z
series."

"That's all his
alien DNA."

"Yeah. If the
fireproof skin is a gift of his alien ancestry, maybe it can help
with freezing too."

Martis frowned.
"We don't know what those genes do, that's why they're
defunct."

"Well, now
would be a good time to find out if they're useful, because
otherwise I don't rate his chances very high."

"He's going to
die?" Fairen asked.

Tarl glanced
up. "Perhaps. I don't know for sure. Right now I'd say his chances
are thirty-seventy."

Fairen tucked
his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, afraid someone would
notice their trembling. Tarl typed on the keyboard, chewing his
lip. Fairen bent to peer at the screen. Lines of numbers and
letters scrolled up it, changing from amber to green as they did
so. F1, F2, F3, F4... The sequence continued to F54, then changed
to Z1, Z2, Z3, Z4. The Z series ended at 21, and a prompt
reappeared. Tarl sat back, frowning at the screen.

"Now we wait
and see."

"It might not
make any difference," Martis said.

"Well then,
that's it, isn't it? At least I tried. There's nothing else to do
but wait, anyway."

"Or you could
have made it worse."

Tarl glowered
at the host tech. "If you can't contribute anything useful, how
about you piss off?"

The medics
returned with syringes and vials, and Tarl injected Sabre in the
vein in the back of his hand, the frozen skin cracking as the
needle went in.

"This is why he
can't be moved," he muttered. "Any touch will cause damage."

Martis placed a
hand on Sabre's back. "He's warming, though."

Tarl glanced at
the screen. "Yeah. His core temperature is up to thirty."

"That's good,
right?" Fairen enquired.

"Yes, My Lord.
He's fighting."

Fairen jumped
and glanced around as a shriek came from the hospital doors. Tassin
ran towards them, her hair tangled and wild, her face
tear-streaked, one arm hugging her ribs. Tarl jumped up and fielded
her before she could throw herself at Sabre, and she strained
against him, staring at the prone cyber.

"Sabre! What's
wrong with him? Is he going to be all right? Let me go!"

"No." Tarl
shook her. "Calm down! You can't touch him right now, okay? Promise
me you won't try, and I'll let you go."

"What is it?"
She struggled. "I won't touch him!"

Tarl released
her, and she sank to the floor beside Sabre, her eyes flicking over
his pallid skin and blue lips. "What's wrong with him?"

"What do you
think, after drifting in space for so long? He's frozen.
Literally."

"He's going to
be okay though, right?"

"I hope
so."

"So what are
you doing for him? Why aren't you warming him? Do something,
Tarl!"

"I am." He
crouched beside her. "I'm doing what's best, trust me. I can't warm
him, okay? He has to warm up slowly. What happened?"

She shook her
head, tangled hair straggling across her cheeks. She brushed it
behind her ears. "He..." She gulped. "He saved my life. The ship
was breaking up, I think. I don't remember much, I was unconscious
for most of it. When I woke up, we were in a corridor. There was a
wind blowing past, and he was holding me. He told me to get in the
pod, and that he would be right behind me. Then he threw me into it
but..." She rocked, clutching her ribs as fresh tears ran down her
cheeks. "He didn't come! The door closed and... I... I saw him,
drifting in space. I couldn't help him!"

"Okay, hush."
Tarl drew her into a comforting embrace, and she clung to him. "You
couldn't do anything. He wanted to save you, and he did. Now we're
going to save him. Hush, it's not your fault."

"Of course it
is! He came to rescue me! If not for me..." She swallowed and
sobbed. "It's all my fault! If I'd stayed on Omega Five..."

"You didn't
know what was going to -"

"But you did!
You warned me, but I wouldn't listen!"

"Okay, look,
it's no good beating yourself up over it now. All we can do is hope
he's okay." He stroked her hair, making shushing noises. "Do you
want a sedative?"

She shook her
head, frowning at Sabre. "No. Why is he... glowing?"

Tarl swung
around, and Fairen followed Tassin's gaze. The cyber's skin had
taken on a slight, shimmering glow, as if lighted from within. Tarl
glanced at the screen, his eyes widening.

"Bloody
hell."

Fairen studied
the screen, unable to decipher the numeric sequences that scrolled
up it, some flashing green, others amber, and one or two red. "What
is it?"

"I'm not sure,"
Tarl muttered. "It's as if... the F and Z series are combining,
creating a whole new sequence of DNA. F12Z3... F22Z7... F31Z13...
Wow. What do you make of it, Martis?"

The host
researcher frowned at the screen, shaking his head. "Impossible.
That genome's totally alien."

"But it's also
healing him. Core temperature up to thirty-four and rising. Heart
beat twenty-two, blood pressure a hundred over eighty, blood oxygen
eighty-nine per cent, bio-status... twenty-two per cent. Damn!
Whatever's going on, it's using up the last of his resources."

"So activating
those genes could kill him."

Tarl put a hand
on Sabre's arm. "He's defrosted. Get me a nutrition IV, now!"

A medic ran
off, returning a minute later with a bag of yellow fluid. Tarl
inserted the needle into Sabre's arm and turned the drip on full.
"This should restore at least some of his strength."

Martis watched
the screen. "If it doesn't, he'll die."

"Well it's got
to, doesn't it? It's liquid energy."

"His organs
will shut down at twenty per cent, and he's already down to
twenty-one."

"I'm not blind.
He's going to make it. If I hadn't switched on those genes, he'd
have died of the freezing, anyway."

"You don't know
that."

Tarl snorted.
"Quit fooling yourself. He was dying."

"He still
is."

"Will you shut
the hell up?"

Martis shot
Tassin an apologetic look. "Sorry."

Blood oozed
from the abrasions on Sabre's arms and shins, and Tarl glanced at
the readouts again. "Blood pressure up to normal now. Heart beat at
thirty-five."

"Is he
improving?" Fairen asked.

"On the one
hand, yeah, on the other... not really. His bio-status is
dangerously low, and dropping."

Martis turned
to Tarl. "The question is, can those genes be switched off now that
they've combined?"

"I somehow
doubt it."

"And we have no
clue what they do. Brilliant."

"I didn't hear
you making any better suggestions." Tarl rose to his feet, rubbing
his back. "You can straighten him out and put him on a bed
now."

Martis
unplugged the data cable, and the medics brought a stretcher and
took Sabre to a bed. Fairen caught Shrain watching him, and turned
away, leaving the hospital. He still had to deal with whoever had
caused this debacle, and he was not in a forgiving mood. Shrain
followed, his expression a study of impassive obedience.

 

 

Tarl watched
the Overlord stride out, half relieved to be rid of his brooding
presence. Even though Fairen had saved Sabre, Overlords gave him
the willies. Tassin still knelt, clasping her ribs, and he noticed
her pallor and rigid stance, as well as the beads of sweat that
dewed her brow. Concerned, he turned to her.

"Are you
okay?"

She forced a
grim smile. "Not really. I have some broken ribs, I think."

"Come on, let's
have a look at you." Tarl helped her to her feet and over to a bed,
easing her onto it. She lay back with a groan, gasping. Tarl rolled
a portable scanner over to her bedside and switched it on,
summoning a passing doctor with an imperious wave. The scanner
revealed two broken ribs, and he switched it off as the doctor left
to fetch a painkiller and bandages. Tarl frowned at the Queen,
recalling her account of Sabre's rescue. He tugged her shirt up,
foiling her attempt to hold it down, and studied the pair of
reddish hand-shaped bruises that clasped her waist.

Tarl met her
eyes, and she shook her head. "He had no choice."

"I know that.
You think he'd ever hurt you intentionally? He'd rather cut off his
right arm. He did this to save you, but..."

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