The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice (12 page)

"Was it just a
matter of proving that you have more money than him?"

"Not at first,”
he said, “but towards the end, I must admit I was growing annoyed
with his persistence."

"Endrovar
probably planted him to push up the price, then."

"Perhaps."

“So if you
weren’t looking for a slave, why were you even at the... What was
it, a Net auction?"

“Yes. I was
invited.”

"I just want to
go home," she said, wondering if it was possible to appeal to his
better nature, if he had one.

"Of course you
do."

Tarvin touched
a keypad on the arm of the sofa, and a few moments later the door
opened to admit a uniformed servant with a tray of assorted drinks.
Tarvin selected a beverage and gestured at Tassin.

"The lady will
have something, too."

The servant
offered her the tray, and she chose a glass at random. When the
door shut behind him, she tasted the concoction, finding it quite
pleasant.

"Will you
consider my offer?" she asked.

"I’m afraid
not. Tell me how you came to be in this unfortunate
predicament."

Tassin settled
back, relaxing somewhat, since he seemed friendly and sympathetic
despite his refusal to consider her offer. It seemed odd that a
slave owner would entertain a slave he had just purchased, and she
hoped he might be sufficiently moved by her plight to help her. She
related the entire tale, from the time she had been taken from
Omega Five, including Sabre’s disappearance as the reason she had
contacted the alien space vessel, although she did not mention what
he was, or her suspicions about who had taken him and why. Tarvin
listened intently, sipped his drink and interjected an occasional
question, clearly fascinated. She wondered if he bought slaves just
so he could listen to their woeful stories, and, if so, whether he
might return her to Omega Five when she had told hers. The
manservant brought fresh drinks when their glasses became empty,
and a plate of tasty finger food, which she nibbled. At the end of
the tale, Tarvin cocked his head and smiled.

“You have
indeed suffered a terrible mishap. Most unfortunate; I
sympathise.”

Tassin nodded,
wondering at Tarvin’s stillness. He had not moved since she had
come in, and his position on the sofa looked a trifle
uncomfortable. Silence fell, and stretched, becoming awkward, and
she tried to think of something to say to dispel it before he grew
bored and dismissed her. "So do you own planets, like
Endrovar?"

"Ah, well,
whether what he owns could be called planets is debateable. Most of
them are barely habitable, and only one is actually inhabited.
Large moons might better describe them."

She sipped her
drink, which was the same sort as the first one she had chosen,
since she had decided that it really was tasty. "Why is it so dark
in here?"

"I prefer
darkness."

"Why?"

"I find it
soothing."

Driven by a
nagging suspicion, Tassin rose and went over to his sofa, settling
on the end of it.

He watched her
with a frown. "Please return to your seat over there."

"Why?"

"I would prefer
you to sit over there."

Tassin leant
closer, studying him. "Is there something wrong with you?"

"What makes you
say that?"

"You sit too
still, and the darkness..."

"Please return
to the other sofa,” he said.

"Are you
paralysed?"

"If I answer
your question, will you return to your seat?"

"All
right."

Tarvin looked
down at his glass. "Yes, I'm paralysed."

"An
accident?"

"The other
sofa?"

Tassin returned
to her former seat. "So was it an accident?"

"Yes."

"And you don't
want to talk about it."

"Would you, if
you were me?"

"I suppose
not."

Tarvin sipped
his drink. "It was one of them." He pushed a button on his keypad,
and soft lights came on in floor to ceiling recesses all around the
walls. Standing under each one, his golden control unit glinting in
the light, was a cyber. Tassin’s nape hairs prickled as her eyes
swept around the room, counting them; fifteen, all clad in dark
blue trousers and short jackets.

"You were
attacked by a cyber?"

"I fought
one."

"Why?"

"I thought I
could win, obviously."

"You're lucky
to be alive."

He shook his
head. "Perhaps death would have been more merciful."

"Why do you
keep them?"

"A reminder,
perhaps, but also protection."

"What possessed
you to fight a cyber?"

“I didn’t know
what he was,” Tarvin said. "Ten years ago, cybers were unknown in
this quadrant. I was... a fighter, the best in these parts by far.
Unbeaten, and unbeatable, I thought. Not crass wrestling matches,
you understand, but highly skilled combat. I spent my youth in
training with the masters, and it was considered a sport for
heroes, kings and warriors. I was dedicated to it. It was my life.
One of them took it away."

The lights
above the cybers dimmed, consigning them to the darkness again.
"You can't blame them,” she said.

"No, I don't. I
blame the man who used cybers in the combat arenas, disguised as
normal men."

"Emperor
Endrovar."

He snorted.
"Emperor nothing, he's a thug."

"Oh, I know
that."

"He was a
mediocre fighter at best, and he couldn't beat me. I was the
champion."

"So do you use
your cybers to fight now?"

"No. I would
never do that,” he replied. “It would be an insult to them. They
are peerless fighting machines. I have nothing but respect for
them."

"And you must
be rich to own so many."

Tarvin inclined
his head. "I am heir to Tor'Sharlin, rulers of the Estron System,
masters of the combat creed of Sharlin, founder and master of high
combat." He gestured to the shadows. "Him."

She glanced
around in confusion. "Who?"

Tarvin touched
the keypad, bringing up the lights over the cybers again.
"Him."

"The
cybers?"

"They are his
clones."

"He's the man
Myon Two cloned?"

"Yes,” Tarvin
said. “He was the greatest fighter to ever live. The most perfect
physique ever born; a peerless balance of size, weight, strength
and speed, unrivalled agility and split second reflexes."

"So... you're
related to them?"

"He was my
ancestor. Sharlin vanished from this quadrant when he was only
thirty-seven. Fortunately, he already had five sons. Everyone
assumed he had gone in search of fresh challenges, and perhaps he
did. How Myon Two got his body I don't know. Perhaps they killed
him; perhaps he died some other way. After a cyber beat me, I
bought one and tested his DNA. That's how I found out he was
Sharlin."

"You don't look
like them."

"No, but I'm
told that my father did. He died when I was an infant, killed in a
combat match that went awry through treachery. I look like my
mother."

"Did you tell
Myon Two who you are?" she asked.

"Yes, I
travelled there after I found out. I demanded recompense for my
injury and their use of my ancestor's DNA. That's why I have so
many cybers. These are just the ones who are on duty in here. Myon
Two sends me one every year. The best, according to them."

Tassin frowned.
"But if this happened ten years ago..."

"Yes, well,
when I travelled there, they gave me thirty as my compensation, so
I now have forty-one."

"What happened
in the fight?"

Tarvin smiled.
"I hit him twice. I'm told that was unheard of. He moved like
lightning. After about four seconds in the arena with him, I knew I
was going to lose. But I had stubborn pride on my side. It was not
a fight to the death, he had been ordered to defeat me. He hit me
three times in the head, glancing blows, but I wouldn't stay down.
Then he broke my arm, and my wrist. Still, I wouldn't stay down.
Finally he broke my back. With one blow, like that." He snapped his
fingers. "Like snapping a twig. The fight lasted thirteen
minutes."

"You know
they're not entirely human."

He nodded. "The
people at Cybercorp told me. They cited it as a reason why they
shouldn't have to pay compensation, but ninety-nine per cent of the
DNA is human, and it's all Sharlin's."

"And do you
know that they're aware?"

"No, according
to Myon Two, they have no higher brain function. They're born like
that, some sort of genetic change they made."

"They
lied."

"Why do you say
that?"

Tassin
hesitated, toying with the idea of telling him the truth about
Sabre, but then discarded it. Not now. "The man who was abducted
with me, Tarl Averly, used to be a Myon Two repair tech until he
discovered the truth. Their brain function is intact, they just
have no control. They can hear, and think, and feel, and see a
little, but they can't move or speak, the brow band controls
that."

Tarvin stared
at her for several moments. "Can he prove it?"

Again she
hesitated. "I don't know."

"How does he
know this, then?"

"He told me
that once, when he was repairing a cyber who had been terribly
burnt, and whose brow band was defunct, something to do with an
electomagno... something..."

"Electromagnetic?"

"That's it.
Something to do with that. He was thrown through a solar wing or
something... Anyway, his brow band was off, and he – the host –
spoke to Tarl, asked him to kill him, then he died."

He stared at
her for what seemed like a full minute. "If that's true, it's
barbaric."

"Yes, and if
he's your ancestor, you can stop them."

Tarvin frowned
at his drink. "I gave them permission to continue using Sharlin's
DNA."

"Why?"

"Because my
bloodline continues in them forever, and they honour my heritage.
They are peerless fighters, respected all over the galaxy."

"And they
suffer indescribable pain,” she said. “They're used for horrific
purposes, torn apart by alien beasts -"

"I know. But
they’re not Sharlin. He lived and died, and he cannot be reborn.
This man Tarl, does Endrovar still have him?"

"Yes." She
leant forward, intent. "Could you buy him?"

"I doubt he
would be willing to sell him. A cyber tech would be extremely
valuable to him."

"Tarl could
tell you much more than I can."

"About what?"
he asked.

"Cybers."

"I know all I
need to, or want to."

"You seem
unconcerned about what's being done to your ancestor's clones.
Don't you care?"

He smiled.
"It's not like I ever met him."

"Would you like
to?"

"What do you
mean by that?"

She paused once
more, torn. "Wouldn't you like to meet a clone who wasn't
controlled by a brow band?"

"That's
impossible, I was told. And anyway, it wouldn't be Sharlin. His
spirit has passed, this is only his flesh."

Tassin put down
her empty glass, struck by a sudden thought. "Tarl might be able to
help you."

"Help me?
How?"

"Your injury.
He might be able to fix it."

Tarvin snorted.
"A nice thought, but impossible, I assure you. My spinal cord was
sheared off, no hope of restoring it. I went to the best surgeons
and specialists."

"But cybers
have all sorts of abilities; they heal faster than normal, perhaps
-"

"No." He put
down his glass. "I think you'll find that even cybers can't regrow
a spinal cord. I've heard of them breaking their backs, too."

"But Tarl
-"

"Enough,
please. I'm tired. Erron will show you to a room, where you can
rest and bathe." He tapped the control pad, and the door slid open
to admit the manservant, who bowed. "Show Tassin to a room and make
sure she's comfortable," Tarvin instructed.

"At once,
Sire."

Tassin froze in
the act of standing up, turning to Tarvin. "You're a king?"

He smiled, his
golden eyes gleaming in the light from the doorway. "Yes."

She stared at
him, stunned.

Erron murmured,
"This way, Miss."

She closed her
mouth and swallowed. "But then... he's..." She gestured to the
darkness where the cybers stood.

"He was High
King Sharlin Stargane, ruler of the Estron System and the Stargarde
Marches, fifteen solar systems on the Inner Rim. But that was a
long time ago."

"That's why you
can't..."

"He's a legend,
and he's dead. Dead legends need to stay dead. If High King Sharlin
returned, it would spark an interstellar war the likes of which has
never been seen, and I'd venture to say even the Overlords could
not stop."

She nodded,
trying to swallow the lump in her throat.

Erron gestured
to the door again. "Please, Miss?"

Tassin followed
him, her mind whirling, still struggling to grasp what she had
learnt. Erron led her to a luxuriously furnished jade and gold
suite with wardrobes full of clothes and an immense bathroom
equipped with scented soaps and a multitude of lotions, salts and
perfumes. Running a hot bath, she stripped off and soaked in it,
thinking about what she had learnt and wondering at it. What were
the chances, she mused, of meeting the man whose ancestor Myon Two
had cloned, and who was, to all intents and purposes, Sabre’s
descendant. Now she knew why she had always felt that he was noble.
One could not get any nobler than a high king.

Chapter Six

Martis looked
up when the door slid open to admit Kole, who strolled over to the
padded table where Sabre lay and gazed down at him. The two cybers
who guarded the door remained immobile. They would only keep out
the enforcers if ordered to do so, since all of them had command
privileges.