Free Z14 by Jim Chaseley Page A

said. I was continually assessing my chances of escape, or of launching a successful attack, as we spoke.
    “Four,” said the captain. “We’re fighting cyborgs man, shit’s gone sci-fi.” He’d just confirmed my initial suspicion that he was an idiot – Even if I put it down to the exhilaration that humans describe feeling after surviving intense combat.
    “Did you kill them all?” I said. It was no good, my chances of taking my fate into my own…hand, here and surviving, were two point zero zero zero zero seven – unless it suddenly rained, then they went up to a nice round three percent. Even with the laser rifles, even with just one arm, I’d attack them and be reasonably sure of the outcome – if it wasn’t for those plasma rifles.
    “Pablo here killed two,” he indicated one of the soldiers who’d executed the cyborg just now. “And I took one down with just one punch.” A couple of his men snickered dutifully at the boast.
    “And the fourth?” I said.
    “Well, we knew one of them was in the old ship, the old command centre, and we had it surrounded.” He wiped sweat from his ample brow. “What we didn’t know was that three more were going to come up behind us and tear us a new asshole. We called down the artillery on the rest of the city then, to flush any more ou – ”
    “What about the people?” I said.
    “What about my people?” he said. “We had to do something to make sure no more were out there. Besides, they’re only Jollies.” He used the nickname for the people from this city.
    “And the arty didn’t do too much damage,” the captain continued. I employed a facial expression that conveyed disbelief.
    “No, seriously,” he said, as a grim smile stretched his lips. “That was the flamethrower teams we sent out to make doubly sure there were no more cyborgs.”
    I shook my head slowly. “And yet, here I am.”
    “Yeah, but you’re fucked,” he said. Most of his men laughed this time.
    “Anyway,” he went on gesturing with a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the courtyard battlefield. “Turns out we could wear them down with concentrated laser fire, while the bulk of the men kept them busy – even if that was only because the bots move a bit slower when they have to keep pausing to rip a man in half.
    “With the lasers doing a bit of damage, we managed to get the plasma guys close enough to kill two and blow the legs off the last one. Then Pablo had to swap his plasma for a laser because, well, the plas – ”
    “Because the plasma rifles are shit?” I said.
    “A bit, yeah,” he said with a nod that wobbled his jowls. “Experimental tech. You get one good shot out of them, and then, if you’re lucky you get a second one, but it’s always noticeably weaker. After that, you’re carrying dead weight.”
    “And how do you feel about being given faulty weapons? The Overlords have fucked you over,” I said.
    “True that. But, way I see it, it’s either get paid by them and get fucked over, or, just get plain fucked by the ones they are paying. Only way to be the one getting to do any actual fucking is to be an Overlord.” He gave a short laugh. “Apart from the Overlord who came down here with us, that is. He won’t be doing much more of that. I swear, he was hoping for some sort of meet and greet with the cyborgs. But as soon as the firing started he lost it and ran through a laser beam. Hell, his legs even carried on running for a second after he left his torso behind.”
    “Pleasant,” I said. “You never got round to telling me about the fourth cyborg.”
    “Well, just before you turned up and we finished playing with chrome-dome back there, the old ship’s door opened up and a cyborg just flew straight out, climbed into the sky and bugged out.”
    “Direction?”
    “No idea. Up?” he said, and then grinned at his own gag. “Anyway, enough chit-chat, the boss wanted to see you if you showed up.”
    “The boss?”
    “Chester Boram the