Free The Cyber Chronicles VIII - Scorpion Lord by T C Southwell

occurring."
    Estrelle
glared at Jorran. "Give him the antidote."
    He smirked.
"He can take it."
    Martis swore
as the lights on his console all went red, and two alarms beeped
and whined. Sabre went limp, flopping back onto the table. "He's
gone into cardiac failure."
    "Restart it,"
Jorran ordered as he picked up a syringe and injected the
intravenous line.
    Martis grabbed
the two pads and slapped them onto Sabre's chest on either side of
his heart, triggering the electrical jolt. The cyber's back arched
again, then he sagged back.
    "Restart
shocks don't work too well on a cyber. The barrinium armour
diffuses them too much," Martis observed.
    "Just do your
job," Jorran said, "we can do without the running commentary."
    "Congratulations, Jorran. It looks like you've succeeded in killing
him," Estrelle remarked.
    "When I want
your opinion, Cyber Tech, I'll ask for it!"
    "I'm so glad I
logged my disapproval. Now you'll have to face management
alone."
    He turned to
glower at her. "Did I, or did I not see the seventh control light
flashing while he was convulsed?"
    "Have a look
now, they're all red. That particular configuration, Host Tech
Jorran, means the host is dead."
    "Not for long.
Shock him again, Martis."
    Martis pressed
the pads to Sabre's chest again and triggered another shock. "No
response, sir."
    Jorran picked
up another syringe and injected its contents into the vein in
Sabre's arm. "Try now."
    Martis
repeated the shock, and, as Sabre sagged back, the alarms stopped
and a soft beep came from the console. "He's back. Heart rate...
twenty. Blood pressure... eighty over sixty. Slow and low. Not
good."
    Estrelle gazed
at the brow band, where a few green lights winked again, but most
remained red. "What's his bio-status?"
    "Um... forty
per cent."
    Jorran leant
over the cyber and slapped his face hard enough to jerk his head to
the side and make Estrelle jump.
    "Wake up, you
piece of shit. Come on, show me how much you want to live."
    "I thought you
wanted the control unit to take over?" Estrelle asked.
    "I do."
    "Then why are
you talking to the host?"
    "I want to see
if he's still in there." He shot her a glare.
    Estrelle
glanced at the brow band. "Well, the cyber's not in control. This
was a complete waste of time and resources."
    Jorran swung
around. "You're really starting to annoy me!"
    Estrelle bit
back a blistering retort, reminding herself that Jorran outranked
her, even if he was not her boss, much as she disliked him and what
he was doing to Sabre. As head of host research, he could complain
to the head of cyber research and have her removed from the case.
Instead, she looked down at Sabre, shocked to find that his eyes
were open, and fixed on Jorran. The host tech noticed her
expression and followed her gaze, recoiling from the fury and
hatred in Sabre's eyes. A muscle jumped in the cyber’s jaw, and his
brow furrowed.
    "You had
better pray I never get free again, Jorran, because if I do, I'm
going to rip your guts out through your mouth and watch you choke
on them."
    Jorran paled,
then leant closer. "I promise you never will, you psychopathic
shithead. This time next week, you'll be unable to form a coherent
sentence, and you'll be under cyber control again."
     
    ****
     
    Estrelle
glanced around and pulled her hood closer around her face, then
pushed the entry-call buzzer of a tech accommodation, her heart
pounding. The hour was late, and few people were abroad, except for
patrolling enforcers. It made it less likely that anyone would see
her, but would draw more suspicions if someone did. After several
moments the door slid open to reveal Martis, who gaped at her. She
slipped inside, pressing the door-close button on the inside, and
pushed back her hood.
    Martis' eyes
widened. "Estrelle? What are you doing here?"
    "I must talk
to you. It's important."
    "You couldn't
do it at work?"
    "No. Are you
alone?"
    He nodded,
gesturing. "Have a seat."
    The tiny, drab
apartment had utilitarian grey furnishings, brown