The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice (5 page)

"Who are
you?"

The youth
looked up, tears running down his cheeks. "I wasn't even there! I'm
the cook's assistant on Bental Seven, I swear!"

Fairen nodded,
pulling his glove back on. "I judge you to be innocent. Release
him. Find me the real tenth man."

The weeping
youth collapsed as the guards let him go. Fairen strode to the side
door and vanished through it. Everyone stood frozen in stunned
silence that only the terrified assistant cook’s soft sobs
broke.

Sabre found
Fairen in his private sitting room, leaning on the drinks counter
with his hood gripped in one fist. The boy glanced around, looking
pale and shaken. Sabre approached and hugged him, patting his back.
Fairen clung to him, fighting to stifle the sobs that racked
him.

"Cry, Emrin,"
Sabre murmured. "There's no shame in it. On the first day I got
free of cyber control, and opened my eyes to see the world clearly
for the first time, I wept."

Fairen sobbed
against his chest while Sabre rubbed his back. He marvelled at the
sensitive nature of this youth who judged men and condemned them
with utter certainty of their guilt. Fairen released Sabre and
swung away, rubbing his face. Sabre poured drinks from the
omnipresent pitcher, discovering it to be a warm, milky concoction
this time. He took a cup to Fairen, who sat on the couch, his head
bowed.

Sabre held out
the cup. "Are you okay now?"

The young
Overlord raised his head and nodded, took the cup and gulped the
thick drink. "I've never judged so many men."

"That was
tough, I could tell."

"They were all
guilty, except the cook's assistant."

"It's enough
now. I don't care about the rest of them."

Fairen sighed,
clasping the cup. "The tenth man is the ringleader, I could tell.
They all knew it, and they tricked me. None of them knew his real
name, but I sensed it."

"It doesn't
matter."

"I thought the
last man would be the one I was looking for, but he was the only
innocent."

"But how did
they know he would be the last to be judged?"

Fairen
shrugged. "They didn't, but neither did I. I would still have
executed them all. They couldn't tell me his name."

"Well, I think
you scared the shit out of everyone, including me."

"You?" Fairen
chuckled. "How did I do that?"

"That voice you
used, the lasers, the things you said... terrifying."

"It's supposed
to be. The bodies of those men will be returned to their families,
with a written judgement attached. Everyone will know the Scorpion
Lord judged and executed them. I believe it is considered a
monumental disgrace."

Sabre nodded.
"I didn't realise they were executed right in front of you."

"Summary
executions always are. Scorpio does it. There's no pain, no blood,
no emotions… other than fear, of course."

"But it was
still tough on you."

"Yes." Fairen
looked down. "I'm angry too. I demanded the vidrecords of your
torture, and watched them just before I judged those men."

Sabre groaned,
rubbing his face. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to
see for myself. It made me ill, and angry. I don't understand why
you're not angry too."

"I am. I
just... I guess I'm so used to being angry about what was done to
me, but unable to do anything about it, I just learnt to keep it
inside."

"That must be
even worse, to be so angry, yet helpless."

The cyber
nodded. "I also lack the ability as yet to feel properly, I think.
Anger I've always known, but not the freedom to vent it, so I
suppressed it."

"Would it have
helped if I had let you kill them?"

"God, no. I
hate killing."

Fairen nodded.
"I sense that about you too. Strange, for a..."

"Killing
machine."

"Warrior."

Sabre snorted.
"I never wanted to be a warrior."

"And I never
wanted to be an Overlord."

"Yet here we
are."

Fairen nodded
again. "The enforcer commanders are blameless, but I'll judge them
if you want me to, otherwise I'll release them."

"If they're
blameless, there's no point in judging them. But there are other
ways in which to make Myon Two pay. There are not enough Overlords
to police this galaxy, as you said. What if you confiscate, or
appropriate some of their ships, and use them to help you? If you'd
sent battle cruisers to Thayta and Permon instead of going there
yourself, they could have dealt with the Corsairs."

The Overlord
smiled, shaking his head. "Normal ships would have taken many
hours, even days, to reach those planets on the Rim, and by that
time the Thaytans and the Permonites would have been wiped out. And
small ships cannot be fitted with translocation generators. One of
my generators is bigger than all six of those enforcer ships I
captured put together."

"Station ships
in trouble areas..."

"Those two
planets are a hundred and eighty-three light years apart."

Sabre said,
"You could build more Overlord ships, and give them to trustworthy
men, who could use them in conflicts like those. There was no need
for an Overlord, no one was judged."

"Those were
strange occurrences. Corsairs rarely attack human worlds. Usually
conflicts are between humans, and an Overlord is needed."

The cyber
sipped his drink, frowning. "Then perhaps a small fleet of battle
cruisers would be useful to an Overlord. You could easily carry
them in this ship."

"They would be
vulnerable, as this ship is not. If one of them was destroyed, it
would compromise an Overlord's power. People would know that an
Overlord could be hurt, some of his ships destroyed. No, we must be
swift, mysterious and invulnerable, our justice incontrovertible
and our ships omnipotent. While we settle many conflicts, the fear
of us prevents many more from ever starting. No one wants to draw
the attention of an Overlord, and we ensure that it remains like
that.

"As my friend,
you've become used to my company, and you know me for what I truly
am. But for those who have never met an Overlord, we're terrifying,
mysterious beings who rule with an iron fist, and for most of those
who have met one, we're even more frightening."

Sabre frowned
at his drink. "Yeah, you're right."

"I appreciate
your wish to ease my burden. The best way you could help us is to
find young empaths for us to train. Then perhaps we could build
more ships and make our lives easier."

"I'll keep that
in mind."

Fairen raised
his head and addressed the air. "Shrain, release the enforcer
commanders, and send Atrashka and Prello back to Myon Two."

Chapter Three

Tassin entered
a massive dining room filled with powdered, overdressed people, all
of whom turned to stare at her, most with disdain, some with
curiosity, and several with overt hostility. An immense banquet
table, covered with a burgundy cloth, held a king's ransom of gold
cutlery, silver platters, crystal goblets and jewel-encrusted spice
containers. Vast crystal chandeliers hung above it, casting
multi-hued light in slowly moving patterns. Liveried flunkies stood
in the corners like statues while others moved amongst the crowd,
offering golden trays of exotic drinks.

Tarl wore a new
brown suit over a scarlet shirt. Judging by the way he scratched
and fidgeted, the clothes itched and pinched him under the arms,
but she suspected he had no choice but to wear them. He had
received his summons just half an hour before the allotted time,
presumably because Ashmond had told Endrovar about his cyber tech
skills. Tassin had chosen to wear a layered silk gown of deep
cobalt trimmed with gold embroidery, and a net of seed pearls
covered her elegantly coiled hair. More pearls clasped her throat
and dripped from her ears. A fortune in jewels had been available
in her room, but she had confined herself to a tasteful
minimum.

Ashmond came
forward to greet her, his eyes sweeping over her with a gleam of
appreciation. "Very nice, Your Majesty, you do indeed look
queenly."

Tassin raised
her chin. "Ashmond, I would look like a queen in sackcloth and
ashes, simply because I am one."

"Of course." He
bowed over her hand. "Endrovar is eager to speak to you."

The baron led
her through the throng, and Tarl followed. Soft music lilted from a
trio of harp, lute and flute players at the far end of the room.
The banquet hall’s walls were adorned with battle banners, stuffed
trophies, scarred weapons and coats of arms, with suits of armour
standing like steel sentinels between them. Ornately framed
portraits of dyspeptic looking individuals stared down with
aristocratic disdain, their rough surfaces yellowed with age.
Clearly Endrovar had striven to buy himself a history as well as
culture, but the man himself lacked any, Tassin mused as the
massive emperor came into view, sprawled in a cushioned chair and
surrounded by giggling courtiers. He was clad in a robe that
appeared to be made out of someone’s unwanted red and gold brocade
curtains, belted with a gaudy jewelled golden rope.

Ashmond stopped
in front of the emperor and bowed, then stepped aside. Endrovar
gestured, making the fawning fops retreat, and leered at
Tassin.

"Very nice; a
definite improvement. Now, I want to speak to this cyber technician
of mine."

Tarl said,
"That would be me, sir."

Endrovar
studied him. "Where did you learn to be a cyber tech?"

"On Myon Two. I
was a repair tech for fifteen years."

"Why did you
leave?"

Tarl frowned.
"Well, I realised that they feel pain, and I couldn't stomach
it."

Endrovar’s
brows rose. "They don't feel anything. They're computer
controlled."

"They feel
pain."

"What makes you
think that?"

"I was working
on one with a defunct brow band, and he spoke to me. He begged me
to kill him, because he was horribly burnt. He died a minute
later."

The emperor
turned his head. "Warrior One, come here."

Tassin drew a
sharp breath as a cyber emerged from behind a knot of people and
moved closer with a swift, gliding gait to stop beside the emperor.
His gentle, familiar face was impassive, and his eyes stared ahead.
Endrovar drew a jewelled dagger from somewhere in his opulent
clothing.

"Roll up your
sleeve and hold out your arm," he ordered.

"Sir, cutting
him won't prove anything," Tarl said. "The control unit won't allow
him to show any pain. The host is completely helpless. He can't so
much as focus his eyes."

Endrovar
gripped the cyber's arm and drew the dagger across his skin. Bright
blood to oozed from the wound, and he gestured to the clone’s
impassive face. "See? No pain."

"As I just
said, they can't show any emotions, but they do feel."

The emperor
snorted. "If they felt something, they'd show something."

"The brow band
controls them completely, but the host is fully aware. He can
think, feel, hear and see, to a certain extent, but he can't speak,
move or focus his eyes."

Endrovar tucked
the dagger away. "That's your theory, but impossible to prove, I'd
say. Anyway, let's see how good you are. What grade is Warrior
One?"

Tarl approached
the cyber, studying him. Tassin noticed that one of his cheek scars
was lower than the other, there was a tiny bald patch on the side
of his scalp, and, after several moments, his right eye
twitched.

"He's a
high-quality grade B," Tarl said.

"Rubbish! He's
a grade A!"

Tarl shook his
head. "His plating is imperfect. Looks like a Monday or Friday job.
He has scalp damage, and nerve damage in his face. I could probably
find more flaws if he was wearing less clothing."

Endrovar
scowled at Tarl, then the cyber. "Warrior One, strip down."

Tassin bit her
lip as the cyber removed his uniform jacket and folded it over the
back of a chair, revealing a torso covered with scars, then pulled
off his shiny boots and stepped out of his trousers. Under them he
wore only tight silk shorts.

Tarl walked
around him. "He has more imperfect plating on his legs, judging by
the misaligned scars, and on his back. Looks like they didn't plate
his left little finger, and the boots are giving him blisters, by
the way. I'd need an analyser to tell you more, but he's a B-grade,
no doubt about it."

Endrovar glared
at the cyber. "Get dressed, return to your station. Warrior Two,
come here."

The second
cyber left his post beside the cushioned chair and stopped in front
of it.

The emperor
glanced at him. "And this one?"

Tarl inspected
the second cyber, peering at his face, then walked around him.
"I'll need access to touch him."

"Warrior Two,
allow this individual to touch you."

The cyber
turned his head towards Tarl, his blank eyes staring through him,
and the brow band flashed. "Acknowledged."

Tarl prodded
the cyber's cheek and pried open his mouth to peer inside. He ran
his fingers over the clone's face and stared into his eyes, covered
them with his hand, then removed it.

"This one's not
so obvious, but is actually a lower-quality grade B. His plating's
okay, but he's blind, and he has missing teeth, which sometimes
happens during early combat training. He's also got a crushed
cheekbone, probably from combat training, which they've plated over
to try to hide. With this much damage from his training, I'd have
to say that he's got slower reflexes than normal, probably a birth
defect or brain damage. I take it you bought them as A-grades?"

Endrovar
nodded, looking angry. "Warrior Two, fetch the other two." The
cyber left, and the emperor raked Tarl with a measuring look. "You
sound like you know what you're talking about, but you could be
making it up."