Read Online The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice by T C Southwell - Free Book Online
Authors: T C Southwell
Ads: Link
hospital, where Martis and Estrelle were checking the
equipment. They looked up with hesitant smiles, and Martis came
over to him.
"How are you
doing?"
"You mean apart
from the fact that my head's full of ridiculous, illogical rubbish
and I feel like an elephant's sitting on my chest? Just great."
"Is that how
you're dealing with it, by dismissing it as ridiculous
rubbish?"
"That's what it
is."
Martis shook
his head. "I suppose for now we should be glad you're still able to
function, but at some point you're going to have to deal with
it."
"Or what?"
"Or become
psychotic. Those emotions seem ridiculous to a machine, but humans
need them, so you're going to have to face them."
The cyber
tilted his head. "What do you need them for?"
"To be
human."
"I'm not a
machine, and I don't have time to deal with it now."
Martis said,
"That's debatable. You're at least forty per cent programmed, and
until now the rest was memories and a small amount of experience.
Now you've just had a shitload of humanity dumped on you. Sort
through it, don't just push it aside."
"I don't want
to sort through it right now, so piss off, okay?"
The tech raised
his hands. "Okay, don't blow a gasket."
"And no dumb
machine metaphors either."
"Okay, you're
pissed off, I get it."
"Good."
The husky tones
of Scorpio's voice came from outside, announcing a translocation in
thirty seconds. Sabre cursed, heading for the door. The
translocation stasis field gripped him before he made it back onto
the dock, and when he staggered free of its stifling embrace one of
Fairen's aides came into the dock and hurried over.
"Overlord
Fairen has translocated to within two hours of the Dellan Station,
saving you a nine-hour flight, sir. He must leave immediately on
urgent business."
Sabre nodded,
and the aide gestured to the workers' foreman, who spoke into a
tiny microphone on his cheek, which sprouted from an earpiece.
Workers streamed from the battle cruiser's hull, floated down on
antigravity platforms and gathered up their equipment before
vanishing out of the dock. Patches of Pathos' original shiny black
paint remained, but it added to her ratty appearance. Re-entering
the ship, Sabre went to the ultra-modern bridge. Pathos was no more
than three or four years old, he calculated, and had all the latest
hi-tech equipment. Data screens and consoles lined the bridge’s
smooth grey bulkheads, and the crew sat at smooth, contoured dark
grey workstations, each equipped with a monitor and keypad. Thestan
sat in the ergonomic black command chair, and his officers manned
their stations, powering up the drives.
Sabre stopped
beside the commander and watched the last of the workers file out
of the dock. The dock doors slid shut and a warning claxon brayed
outside. The battle cruiser floated up as the dock's space doors
rumbled open. Pathos drifted out and moved away from the blood-red
city ship, whose extremities were folded close to her hull, the
long, segmented tail stretched out behind. Starlight glinted on the
ancient, scarred ship, a veteran of many battles, judging by her
pitted flanks and gouged arms, some of them remnants of Fairen's
ramming the Moth Ship to save him.
When the
Scorpion Ship had shrunk to fit into the screens, a shimmer of
white light engulfed it and a gravity shockwave rippled outwards,
then it was gone. Sabre fingered the bracelet on his wrist and
turned to Thestan.
"Get the hell
out of my chair."
The commander
rose and moved away, and Sabre took his place. "You're demoted to
sub-commander, pass it on. Since Fairen brought us closer to the
Dellan Station and left Kole behind, I'm going to assume that he
told him to catch up. Set course for the Dellan Station."
Thestan relayed
the order to the cyber pilot, and Sabre frowned at the screens as
they headed for the closest corridor. He had grown accustomed to
the Scorpion Ship's method of instant travel, and disliked the idea
of spending two hours cooped up with a bunch of enforcers.
equipment. They looked up with hesitant smiles, and Martis came
over to him.
"How are you
doing?"
"You mean apart
from the fact that my head's full of ridiculous, illogical rubbish
and I feel like an elephant's sitting on my chest? Just great."
"Is that how
you're dealing with it, by dismissing it as ridiculous
rubbish?"
"That's what it
is."
Martis shook
his head. "I suppose for now we should be glad you're still able to
function, but at some point you're going to have to deal with
it."
"Or what?"
"Or become
psychotic. Those emotions seem ridiculous to a machine, but humans
need them, so you're going to have to face them."
The cyber
tilted his head. "What do you need them for?"
"To be
human."
"I'm not a
machine, and I don't have time to deal with it now."
Martis said,
"That's debatable. You're at least forty per cent programmed, and
until now the rest was memories and a small amount of experience.
Now you've just had a shitload of humanity dumped on you. Sort
through it, don't just push it aside."
"I don't want
to sort through it right now, so piss off, okay?"
The tech raised
his hands. "Okay, don't blow a gasket."
"And no dumb
machine metaphors either."
"Okay, you're
pissed off, I get it."
"Good."
The husky tones
of Scorpio's voice came from outside, announcing a translocation in
thirty seconds. Sabre cursed, heading for the door. The
translocation stasis field gripped him before he made it back onto
the dock, and when he staggered free of its stifling embrace one of
Fairen's aides came into the dock and hurried over.
"Overlord
Fairen has translocated to within two hours of the Dellan Station,
saving you a nine-hour flight, sir. He must leave immediately on
urgent business."
Sabre nodded,
and the aide gestured to the workers' foreman, who spoke into a
tiny microphone on his cheek, which sprouted from an earpiece.
Workers streamed from the battle cruiser's hull, floated down on
antigravity platforms and gathered up their equipment before
vanishing out of the dock. Patches of Pathos' original shiny black
paint remained, but it added to her ratty appearance. Re-entering
the ship, Sabre went to the ultra-modern bridge. Pathos was no more
than three or four years old, he calculated, and had all the latest
hi-tech equipment. Data screens and consoles lined the bridge’s
smooth grey bulkheads, and the crew sat at smooth, contoured dark
grey workstations, each equipped with a monitor and keypad. Thestan
sat in the ergonomic black command chair, and his officers manned
their stations, powering up the drives.
Sabre stopped
beside the commander and watched the last of the workers file out
of the dock. The dock doors slid shut and a warning claxon brayed
outside. The battle cruiser floated up as the dock's space doors
rumbled open. Pathos drifted out and moved away from the blood-red
city ship, whose extremities were folded close to her hull, the
long, segmented tail stretched out behind. Starlight glinted on the
ancient, scarred ship, a veteran of many battles, judging by her
pitted flanks and gouged arms, some of them remnants of Fairen's
ramming the Moth Ship to save him.
When the
Scorpion Ship had shrunk to fit into the screens, a shimmer of
white light engulfed it and a gravity shockwave rippled outwards,
then it was gone. Sabre fingered the bracelet on his wrist and
turned to Thestan.
"Get the hell
out of my chair."
The commander
rose and moved away, and Sabre took his place. "You're demoted to
sub-commander, pass it on. Since Fairen brought us closer to the
Dellan Station and left Kole behind, I'm going to assume that he
told him to catch up. Set course for the Dellan Station."
Thestan relayed
the order to the cyber pilot, and Sabre frowned at the screens as
they headed for the closest corridor. He had grown accustomed to
the Scorpion Ship's method of instant travel, and disliked the idea
of spending two hours cooped up with a bunch of enforcers.
Similar Books
