Free The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice by T C Southwell Page B
Authors: T C Southwell
commander raked her with an incredulous
glance when she walked in.
She spread her
arms. "Still in one piece. Not even a bruise."
Thestan shook
his head. "He's dangerous, though."
"No, not
really. If you piss him off, he might give you the odd bruise,
that's all. No more than any other angry man, and he’s got a lot to
be angry about."
"I need to know
how to treat him."
Martis looked
around. "Don't piss him off."
Estrelle
nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Treat him like a man, with
respect. Do what he says, and you'll be fine."
"Why did he
wreck the exercise room?"
"He's really
really angry right now. His mind block has failed, and he's
learning what it is to have human emotions. He doesn't like
it."
Martis nodded.
"Can't say I blame him. Must be nice to have a purely logical
mind."
"Nice and numb,
yeah. I don't think I'd like to be that unable to feel; to go
through life with nothing but programmed reactions. Then again,
having all those emotions dumped into his mind in one fell swoop,
with no knowledge of how to deal with them, must be horrible."
"But you think
he's coping?"
She sat at a
bench. "Not yet. That's what caused the tantrum. He wants to lash
out, but there's nothing to focus his rage on right now. If he
catches whoever took Tassin before this phase wears off, however, I
pity them. There's something strangely endearing about him, though.
He's so confused... It's sad."
"Will he be
throwing any more tantrums?" Thestan asked.
"Probably. I
think it helped when I told him the fact that he has these feelings
means he's not psychotic. It's something he was afraid of. But you
and your men are safe. As long as you don't provoke him, he'll take
it out on inanimate objects."
"And how long
do you think this phase is going to last?"
She shrugged,
shaking her head. "Impossible to tell, but I reckon it will
definitely end when he finds Tassin."
"But he's
looking for Tarl Averly. Who's Tassin?"
Estrelle
explained, and Thestan looked thoughtful, picked up an instrument
and frowned at it. "Hard to imagine a cyber with those kinds of
feelings."
"Well, he has
them, trust me."
****
Tarl gazed out
of the small screen in his cramped, utilitarian servants' room. The
ugly brown planet that hung in space outside was Hades Eleven, a
former penal colony that had rebelled in a bloodbath seventy years
ago. The convicts had escaped and slaughtered all the staff and
support personnel, sparing only the women. They had timed their
escape to coincide with a visit from the regional governor, and
took him hostage to gain control of the four warships that had been
his escort. Once the prisoners had the ships, they had killed him
too, and his soldiers. Since then, several attempts to retake the
planet had failed, and it remained an outlaw haven far from other
worlds.
The residents
of Hades Eleven were distinguished by their scarred skin, a legacy
of the last attempt to bring the former penal colony back under
control by wiping out the residents with a weaponised virus.
Thousands had perished, but Hadeans had proven to be tough, and the
survivors had kept control of the world. The planet was
semi-hostile, owning a thin atmosphere that had been terra-formed
using an oxygen-producing alga to create breathable air. Being so
far from its yellow sun, the world remained cold at all times. The
temperature plummeted on the night side, and anyone caught outside
would freeze in a couple of hours. Massive heat exchangers kept the
buildings warm, and little construction had taken place since the
rebellion.
Now,
apparently, it was a meeting place for fight enthusiasts, and the
massive, half empty prisons served as arenas. The visitors brought
money to fuel the otherwise stagnant economy. The residents' only
other form of income was the money they made from storing slaves
and smuggled goods.
Tarl glanced
around as Ashmond came in, looking ridiculous in a silver-studded
black latex outfit that accentuated his pot belly and skinny
glance when she walked in.
She spread her
arms. "Still in one piece. Not even a bruise."
Thestan shook
his head. "He's dangerous, though."
"No, not
really. If you piss him off, he might give you the odd bruise,
that's all. No more than any other angry man, and he’s got a lot to
be angry about."
"I need to know
how to treat him."
Martis looked
around. "Don't piss him off."
Estrelle
nodded. "Yeah, that about sums it up. Treat him like a man, with
respect. Do what he says, and you'll be fine."
"Why did he
wreck the exercise room?"
"He's really
really angry right now. His mind block has failed, and he's
learning what it is to have human emotions. He doesn't like
it."
Martis nodded.
"Can't say I blame him. Must be nice to have a purely logical
mind."
"Nice and numb,
yeah. I don't think I'd like to be that unable to feel; to go
through life with nothing but programmed reactions. Then again,
having all those emotions dumped into his mind in one fell swoop,
with no knowledge of how to deal with them, must be horrible."
"But you think
he's coping?"
She sat at a
bench. "Not yet. That's what caused the tantrum. He wants to lash
out, but there's nothing to focus his rage on right now. If he
catches whoever took Tassin before this phase wears off, however, I
pity them. There's something strangely endearing about him, though.
He's so confused... It's sad."
"Will he be
throwing any more tantrums?" Thestan asked.
"Probably. I
think it helped when I told him the fact that he has these feelings
means he's not psychotic. It's something he was afraid of. But you
and your men are safe. As long as you don't provoke him, he'll take
it out on inanimate objects."
"And how long
do you think this phase is going to last?"
She shrugged,
shaking her head. "Impossible to tell, but I reckon it will
definitely end when he finds Tassin."
"But he's
looking for Tarl Averly. Who's Tassin?"
Estrelle
explained, and Thestan looked thoughtful, picked up an instrument
and frowned at it. "Hard to imagine a cyber with those kinds of
feelings."
"Well, he has
them, trust me."
****
Tarl gazed out
of the small screen in his cramped, utilitarian servants' room. The
ugly brown planet that hung in space outside was Hades Eleven, a
former penal colony that had rebelled in a bloodbath seventy years
ago. The convicts had escaped and slaughtered all the staff and
support personnel, sparing only the women. They had timed their
escape to coincide with a visit from the regional governor, and
took him hostage to gain control of the four warships that had been
his escort. Once the prisoners had the ships, they had killed him
too, and his soldiers. Since then, several attempts to retake the
planet had failed, and it remained an outlaw haven far from other
worlds.
The residents
of Hades Eleven were distinguished by their scarred skin, a legacy
of the last attempt to bring the former penal colony back under
control by wiping out the residents with a weaponised virus.
Thousands had perished, but Hadeans had proven to be tough, and the
survivors had kept control of the world. The planet was
semi-hostile, owning a thin atmosphere that had been terra-formed
using an oxygen-producing alga to create breathable air. Being so
far from its yellow sun, the world remained cold at all times. The
temperature plummeted on the night side, and anyone caught outside
would freeze in a couple of hours. Massive heat exchangers kept the
buildings warm, and little construction had taken place since the
rebellion.
Now,
apparently, it was a meeting place for fight enthusiasts, and the
massive, half empty prisons served as arenas. The visitors brought
money to fuel the otherwise stagnant economy. The residents' only
other form of income was the money they made from storing slaves
and smuggled goods.
Tarl glanced
around as Ashmond came in, looking ridiculous in a silver-studded
black latex outfit that accentuated his pot belly and skinny