Read Online The Cyber Chronicles IX - Precipice by T C Southwell - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: T C Southwell
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The
tension on the bridge made Sabre's nerves jangle, adding to his
foul mood.
That, plus the
dark lump of emotional trauma that sat in the back of his mind like
a crouching beast, making his breath catch every so often in an
irrational emotional reaction, stretched his frayed nerves to
breaking point. Martis was right, he wanted to find a dark corner
and curl up in it to escape this hopeless quest and its inevitable
failure. After half an hour he stood up.
"Thestan, take
over, I'm going to have a rest. I hope you've cleared your shit out
of my cabin."
The
sub-commander stared over his head. "I'll have it done now."
Sabre glanced
around at the rest of the officers, most of whom looked away,
frowning. He stepped closer to Thestan, and a muscle jumped in the
sub-commander's jaw. Sabre glared up at the tall man.
"Oh, I get it,
Thestan, I really do. You're not used to taking orders from a
damned cyber, are you? And yeah, I say 'I' and 'me' and even 'my'."
He glanced around again. "You're all going to have a tough time
with it, I can tell. But you'd better bloody well get used to it,
and fast, understand? And you'd better start tacking a damned 'sir'
onto the end of those clipped sentences. I know what you're
thinking. You've got four cybers on this ship, and I'm only one.
Take me back to your cronies on Myon Two, and you're heroes,
right?"
A muscle
twitched in Thestan's cheek again. "We will obey Overlord
Fairen."
"You really
think I'm going to trust you? I want your cybers' overrides,
now."
Thestan nodded
to a crewman, and Sabre stalked around the bridge while he waited,
pausing beside each man to study him before moving on to the next.
The tension rose, becoming thick enough to hit with a hammer by the
time the crewman returned and handed over four overrides. Sabre
took them and went to the commander's cabin, where more crewmen
were carrying out the last of Thestan's belongings. He flopped down
on the bed and closed his eyes, turning his attention to the
confusion of emotional debris in his head.
It still
threatened to swamp him, ebbing and surging in waves of raw,
unbridled and unwelcome sensations, which he did not understand,
and he was not sure he wanted to plumb their illogical depths. It
had been so powerful when the wall had first failed it had
threatened to push him into catatonia. He had wanted to escape it,
but there was nowhere to run. It terrified him. His logical mind
rejected it as useless data, and he had spent those minutes on
Fairen's bridge stuffing most of it into as many dark recesses in
his mind as he could find.
A lot of it he
had shoved into the dark void where his mocking voice lived, and it
had silenced its cruel jibes. He was no longer just a cyborg, he
was more, he had feelings. Too many of them. His mind shied away
from them, and all thoughts of Tassin. Thinking of her brought a
rush of strange and alarming impulses, ranging from a strong wish
to open an airlock and step out into space, to a powerful urge to
crush the skull of whoever had taken her. Despair, Fairen had
called it. He tried to analyse it, but his mind ran in circles,
failing to find a logical explanation for it. He was a machine with
human emotions. He was a human with a machine mind. He was a
wreck.
Certainly he
was intensely angry, and the feeling would not abate. Whereas
before he had experienced occasional spurts of anger that quickly
faded to a dull background of simmering hatred for Myon Two, now he
could not shake off the fury that filled him. He tossed on the bed,
rubbing his brow. He tried switching the control unit off, but that
made it worse, and he considered letting the cyber take charge, so
he could slide into the peaceful, enervating darkness. Surges of
rage made his hands clench, followed by waves of a strange feeling
that clogged is throat and made it hard to breathe.
Cursing, he
jumped up and left the cabin, shoved aside two crewmen in the
corridor and marched down to the exercise room in the bowels of
tension on the bridge made Sabre's nerves jangle, adding to his
foul mood.
That, plus the
dark lump of emotional trauma that sat in the back of his mind like
a crouching beast, making his breath catch every so often in an
irrational emotional reaction, stretched his frayed nerves to
breaking point. Martis was right, he wanted to find a dark corner
and curl up in it to escape this hopeless quest and its inevitable
failure. After half an hour he stood up.
"Thestan, take
over, I'm going to have a rest. I hope you've cleared your shit out
of my cabin."
The
sub-commander stared over his head. "I'll have it done now."
Sabre glanced
around at the rest of the officers, most of whom looked away,
frowning. He stepped closer to Thestan, and a muscle jumped in the
sub-commander's jaw. Sabre glared up at the tall man.
"Oh, I get it,
Thestan, I really do. You're not used to taking orders from a
damned cyber, are you? And yeah, I say 'I' and 'me' and even 'my'."
He glanced around again. "You're all going to have a tough time
with it, I can tell. But you'd better bloody well get used to it,
and fast, understand? And you'd better start tacking a damned 'sir'
onto the end of those clipped sentences. I know what you're
thinking. You've got four cybers on this ship, and I'm only one.
Take me back to your cronies on Myon Two, and you're heroes,
right?"
A muscle
twitched in Thestan's cheek again. "We will obey Overlord
Fairen."
"You really
think I'm going to trust you? I want your cybers' overrides,
now."
Thestan nodded
to a crewman, and Sabre stalked around the bridge while he waited,
pausing beside each man to study him before moving on to the next.
The tension rose, becoming thick enough to hit with a hammer by the
time the crewman returned and handed over four overrides. Sabre
took them and went to the commander's cabin, where more crewmen
were carrying out the last of Thestan's belongings. He flopped down
on the bed and closed his eyes, turning his attention to the
confusion of emotional debris in his head.
It still
threatened to swamp him, ebbing and surging in waves of raw,
unbridled and unwelcome sensations, which he did not understand,
and he was not sure he wanted to plumb their illogical depths. It
had been so powerful when the wall had first failed it had
threatened to push him into catatonia. He had wanted to escape it,
but there was nowhere to run. It terrified him. His logical mind
rejected it as useless data, and he had spent those minutes on
Fairen's bridge stuffing most of it into as many dark recesses in
his mind as he could find.
A lot of it he
had shoved into the dark void where his mocking voice lived, and it
had silenced its cruel jibes. He was no longer just a cyborg, he
was more, he had feelings. Too many of them. His mind shied away
from them, and all thoughts of Tassin. Thinking of her brought a
rush of strange and alarming impulses, ranging from a strong wish
to open an airlock and step out into space, to a powerful urge to
crush the skull of whoever had taken her. Despair, Fairen had
called it. He tried to analyse it, but his mind ran in circles,
failing to find a logical explanation for it. He was a machine with
human emotions. He was a human with a machine mind. He was a
wreck.
Certainly he
was intensely angry, and the feeling would not abate. Whereas
before he had experienced occasional spurts of anger that quickly
faded to a dull background of simmering hatred for Myon Two, now he
could not shake off the fury that filled him. He tossed on the bed,
rubbing his brow. He tried switching the control unit off, but that
made it worse, and he considered letting the cyber take charge, so
he could slide into the peaceful, enervating darkness. Surges of
rage made his hands clench, followed by waves of a strange feeling
that clogged is throat and made it hard to breathe.
Cursing, he
jumped up and left the cabin, shoved aside two crewmen in the
corridor and marched down to the exercise room in the bowels of
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