The Cyber Chronicles Book II: Death Zone (23 page)

"I'll speak to
my mother. Perhaps she'll agree to keep some boys and see what
happens."

"Even if she
doesn't, you'll be queen one day."

"Yes. I thank
you for your council, Queen Tassin."

With a final,
thoughtful glance at Sabre, Mishra took her leave. His eyes opened,
and Tassin set aside her sewing to rise and go over to the bed.

"You were
awake the whole time, weren't you?"

He smiled.
"I'm afraid so."

"I thought
your snoring was a little louder than usual."

He tried to
sit up and winced, relaxing again with a sigh. "That was a sad
story, but I thought it would be something like that."

Tassin perched
on the edge of the bed. "Yes, I suppose at the time, all they
wanted was to be free, but now they're still preyed upon."

"Your idea is
good. I hope Mishra considers it, after what happened to her."

"I think it's
you who have influenced her a great deal,” she said. “In you, she
can see that some men are good. In fact, I would even go as far as
to say that Mishra is torn by her feelings. Judging by the way she
looks at you, I'd say that she has fallen a little in love, in
spite of her hatred, her upbringing, and her experience."

"You must be
kidding. She hates my guts."

"Not so. When
you're asleep, she doesn't look like she hates you at all. Why do
you think she comes here?"

"In the hope
she'll find me dead."

Tassin smiled.
"She stands for hours beside your bed and just looks at you, as if
she's trying to understand you, or come to terms with her feelings.
The man-woman relationship is the most natural in the world, and
she's attracted to you."

Sabre gave a
disbelieving snort. "She already tried to kill me."

"That was
before she got to know you. Although these women appear happy, and
they seem to satisfy each other's need for companionship and love,
what they have can never compare to what a man and a woman share
together."

His brows rose
towards the flashing brow band. "I didn't realise you knew so much
about it."

She shrugged,
looking away. "I know enough. Unfortunately, as a queen, I doubt
that I'll ever experience it."

Sabre’s eyes
drifted closed again, and she returned to her chair to resume her
needlework.

Chapter Thirteen

Gearn sat in
the rude shelter Murdor had built and glared at the rain sleeting
through the forest. The wolf was stretched out nearby, his belly
bulging with the meal he had just eaten. Murdor sat at the back of
the shack, carving a piece of wood, his brutal face rapt as he
whittled his crude creation.

They had been
camped here for four days, since following the trail back to the
village, and Gearn was growing impatient. The wolf had made sure
their prey did indeed reside in the Andaron village, and Murdor had
wanted to rush in, but Gearn had pointed out the nature of the
strapping women who lived there. Murdor would have a difficult time
fighting all of them as well as the warrior mage, Gearn insisted,
and the big man had grumbled, but subsided.

Soon the
warrior mage would leave the village, for Gearn was sure Queen
Tassin would not want to live amongst such savage women. Until
then, they would wait.

Sabre sat up
on the narrow bed, wincing as the healing wounds in his thigh and
arm twinged. After seven days, most of the pain had abated. His
appetite had returned several days ago, and he had regained most of
the weight he had lost. The infection that had caused the flash
fever had come from the graveyard in which he had woken. A virulent
bacterium had entered his system through his wounds, and the cyber
had put his metabolism into overdrive to counter it. The bacterium
was a flesh-eating variety that would have killed a normal man, but
Sabre's enhanced immune system had manufactured antibodies during
the two hour fever that had prevented the infection from
spreading.

The midwife's
efforts to cool him down had been counterproductive, and forced the
cyber to increase his temperature even more, which caused his
subsequent debility. Sabre had never been in any danger from the
infection, but the control unit was programmed to retaliate
aggressively to any biological threat, since cybers were often used
in alien environments and exposed to dangerous microbes. This
particular bacterium had been alien and unknown to the cyber,
causing its extreme reaction.

Evidently
Omega Five, so long isolated from the rest of the space-faring
galaxy, was home to microbes that had not been logged into Myon
Two's vast database, nor had cybers been immunised against them,
since it was a restricted world. Considering the hundreds of
inhabited planets and billions of biological threats that were
already catered for, it did not surprise him that Myon Two had
neglected to include bacteria from a backwater planet where a cyber
was never supposed to go. Since his immune system was well able to
deal with most unknown threats, the oversight had not endangered
him.

Sabre tore his mind from the clinical thoughts, which
depressed him, reminding him of what he was.
Cyborg
! He gazed at the wall, trying
to blot out the hated word.

Two days ago,
Tassin had removed the stitches he could not reach. The wounds in
his belly had healed well, since the internal body armour had
prevented deeper damage. The injuries in his thigh and arms still
hurt, and he was careful not to tear the fragile flesh.

Since then he
had done a little more each day, helping Tassin with her chores,
stretching and strengthening muscles stiff from disuse. Only Mishra
knew of his progress, and after she had found him awake, she had
stopped visiting. Tassin wanted him to stay in the hut, but he was
bored. After pacing about like a caged cat until he could stand it
no longer, he went for a walk, longing for fresh air.

On his stroll
through the village, he found that none of the Andarons glared or
spat in his direction, which made a pleasant change. Many refused
to look at him at all, while some stared blankly, but a few nodded
in a friendly manner, and one or two even managed a timid smile.
These, he suspected, where the mothers of the girls he had rescued,
attempting to show a little gratitude. He smiled and nodded back at
them, stopping in surprise when a young girl flew out of a hut and
ran up to him, grinning. Although he did not recognise her without
the coating of mud, he knew she had to be one of the ones he had
rescued. She was about twelve years old, and squirmed shyly,
blushing. Sabre lowered himself to one knee, favouring his wounded
leg, and smiled at her.

"Hello, little
one."

The girl
reddened further, shooting him shy glances. "You helped us."

"Reckon I did.
We had a grand mud fight, didn't we? Maybe sometime we'll make a
big patch of mud and do it again. We'll use less smelly stuff this
time, hey?"

She giggled.
"It was fun, but my mum would kill me if I played with you."

"That's a
shame. I like mud fights." Sabre thought of the childhood he had
missed.

The child
reached out and fingered the control unit, clearly fascinated by
the flashing lights. "This is pretty. I wish I had one."

"If I could
take it off, I'd give it to you, princess."

"I'm not a
princess."

"But you're
pretty enough to be one."

"My mum says
men are nasty." It came out in a rush, and she gulped.

He sighed.
"Well, some of them are. You have to be really careful who you
trust, always."

She raised shy
blue eyes. "You're nice. I like you."

"Thank you.
That's the best thing anyone's ever said to me."

She reached
for the brow band again, fingering it for a moment, then slid her
hand down to his cheek in a shy gesture of affection. "I'm glad
you're better. Mum said you were very sick."

"I was, but
I'm all better now." Sabre looked up to find a vast blonde woman
bearing down on them, her eyes flashing blue fire. "Uh oh, here
comes mum."

The girl
looked around and grinned. The big woman ground to a halt a metre
away, her mouth opening and closing as she surveyed her daughter
standing within touching distance of Sabre. He regarded her
warily.

Her eyes
bulged. "I... You... I..."

Conflicting
emotions chased each other across her face, and he understood her
quandary. Here was the enemy, talking to her daughter, for which he
should be flogged, hung, drawn and quartered. The very same enemy
had saved her daughter from a fate worse than death, however, and
should be thanked. He was curious to see what she would do. It
looked as if she would pop. Her face reddened, then she grabbed her
daughter and marched to her hut, slamming the door.

Sabre stared
after her, wondering what she would tell the child. That men were
bad? He had saved her though, the daughter would argue. How did you
explain it to a child? He wished he could treat the girl to a mud
fight, they would both enjoy it. Rising to his feet, he continued
his walk, limping to the end of the village and back.

On his return
to Tassin's hut, he found his bedding outside next to the wall, and
the Queen waiting, arms akimbo. He wondered why she looked so
angry, since he was the one who had to sleep outside now, not
her.

She confronted
him when he walked up. "Shizana saw you, and she informed me that
since you're well enough now, you must sleep outside again."

He shrugged.
"I was expecting it."

"Why couldn't
you stay in the hut?"

"I needed some
fresh air."

She snorted.
"Fresh air! Now you have to sleep outside again. I hope it was
worth it."

"If it wasn't
for Molla's decree, I'd stay in the forest."

Tassin huffed,
clearly unable to think of a suitable retort, then stormed into the
hut and slammed the door. He seemed to have a knack for making
women slam doors, he mused. Spreading his bedding, he settled down
on it, wondering what difference it made to her if he slept
outside. Now she could sleep on her bed again, instead of the
mattress on the floor, so she should be pleased. The walk had tired
him, and he rubbed his aching thigh for a while before lying
down.

The next day,
he went into the forest and cut some of the broad palm leaves they
used for roofing, using them to build a crude shelter next to the
wall. The scanners picked up two human life signs in the forest
some distance from the village, but he shrugged it off as a couple
of women engaged in some secret female ritual, upon which he
definitely did not want to intrude. They were more than two
kilometres from the village, so he had not noticed them before. He
did not try to even guess at what they were doing.

"Why do they
let the little man stay with them?"

Gearn glanced
up from the book he had conjured, startled by Murdor's question.
"What do you mean?"

"You said they
hate men, so why do they let him stay there?"

"Ah." Gearn
nodded. It had taken more than a day for Murdor to arrive at this
revelation. "He's not alone. The women allow the Queen to stay, and
so therefore so does the warrior mage."

Murdor's ugly
face creased in a frown. "What queen?"

Gearn sighed.
He had not seen any reason to mention the Queen before, but now he
gave a brief account, and Murdor smiled.

"So it's Queen
Tassin yer after. No wonder yer want the warrior dead." He looked
thoughtful, an alien expression on his blunt visage. "If Torrian
gets a kingdom out of this, p'rhaps I should've asked fer more
reward."

"The King will
give you whatever you want for this service."

Murdor nodded,
smirking. "I'll see that 'e does."

Gearn glanced
at him and shuddered. The gladiator could become a problem when
this escapade was over, and he hoped the King was pleased enough to
recapture Tassin that he would satisfy Murdor's demands. Then
again, what else could he have done? His mission was to bring
Tassin back by whatever means necessary, so Torrian would have to
deal with Murdor.

Gearn had
chosen to camp far away from the village, since the Andorans
mounted constant patrols around their home. The wolf scouted around
the village every night, searching for a trail. The rest of the
time he made himself scarce, possibly hunting further away. He
returned each night and flopped down panting, but gave no
indication that the Queen had strayed from the village. It was only
a matter of time before she did, however, and Gearn was prepared to
wait.

Tassin put
aside her empty bowl and watched Sabre, who had finished his meal
and now ground a boar tusk into a spear head. He was rarely around
these days, and she missed him. Each morning he vanished into the
forest, to return at dusk laden with meat and fruit, which he
cooked and shared with her. A week had passed since he had been
banned from her hut, and, apart from the fading scars and a
lingering limp, he was back to normal.

He glanced up
at her. "Are you thinking of moving on yet?"

She looked
down, rearranging her ragged skirts. "Yes. They're good people, but
I don't fit in." Tassin had discovered that, amongst the Andarons,
foreign queens had to fend for themselves to a certain extent. "I
would like to find a truly civilised people, where I can live
comfortably for a while."

Sabre nodded,
bending over his work again. "Good. Maybe we'll find a society
where men are accepted too. I'm getting tired of living in a dog
box."

"Yes, you must
be."

"Are you
planning on settling in a similar culture to your own then?"

Tassin
shrugged, watching his deft swiftness as he turned and polished the
tusk. "What choice do I have? I can't return to Arlin. If I can
find a decent people who will treat me according to my station, I
suppose I'll be content enough."