The Cyber Chronicles Book II: Death Zone Read Free

skirt, and wiped the
grime from her face, her eyes resting doubtfully on the
mosscat.
    He turned back
to it. "Is it dangerous here? Outside, they call this the Death
Zone."
    "Life here is
always dangerous, especially further in. Things change with little
warning, and there are odd beasts too. I choose to live here on the
fringe, where Flux-reality is not a threat, but still there are
Real-reality creatures that are almost as bad, though not as
common."
    Sabre pondered
this. "We have to cross over to the other side."
    The mosscat's
eyes narrowed in its black bandit's mask. "You'll have to cross
real Flux-reality, and that's really dangerous."
    "Will you help
us?"
    "Well now,
that's a big favour." Its ears twitched back, and it sat pondering
this for several minutes. "I'll go with you for a while, and if you
prove capable of dealing with the dangers I might continue with
you, otherwise I'll leave. Of course, if you can't deal with the
dangers you'll be dead anyway." It smirked.
    Tassin scowled
and yanked the dagger from her belt. "It is evil, I say kill
it!"
    Sabre turned
to her in surprise, and the mosscat stepped back. She had been
silent for so long that he had almost forgotten her views on the
Death Zone.
    He shook his
head. "We need its help to get through the Zone; it knows the
way."
    "It will lead
us into a trap!"
    The mosscat
made a spitting sound, like a miniature sneeze. "That's a hell of a
conclusion to jump to, lady."
    Sabre turned
back to it and received a shock. It had changed; its nose seemed
longer and its fangs more prominent, its chubby hands were more
slender and now sported claws. A foxy aspect replaced its air of
podgy amiability, and its yellow eyes glowered in its black
mask.
    He studied it.
"She's just scared, mosscat. No need to get angry."
    The mosscat
looked mollified and relaxed, becoming chubby again. "She should
be, in the Flux. But I won't lead you into any traps. And I'm not
an it, I'm a he, and mosscat isn't my name, it's -" He made a
purring sound.
    Sabre tried to
pronounce it, but the nearest he could get to it was 'Purr'. The
mosscat looked disgusted, but shrugged philosophically. He was
quite able to pronounce their names. Sabre turned to find Tassin
glowering at him.
    "I am not
scared. I do not trust it," she said.
    "Him."
    "Whatever."
    Flickers of
green and brown shot through the landscape, and Sabre looked
around. Purr stiffened, becoming alert. "Be ready for Change," he
announced.
    With a ripple,
the terrain warped and transformed. A peculiar half-light replaced
the jungle. Moist black earth now surrounded them, and bloated
white fungi probed through it, raising ragged, rotten looking
parasols of soft flesh to the dingy light. Tassin made a sound of
disgust and moved away from a dirty grey mushroom that had appeared
beside her, and Sabre stood up to study the new landscape. The pool
was still at his feet, and the rock in the tree trunk that Purr had
pointed out as Real-reality now sprouted from the side of a
grotesque orange growth with frilly gill-like protrusions all over
it. Sabre looked down at Purr as he gave a wistful sigh.
    "I preferred
the last one," the mosscat mourned.
    Sabre scanned
the terrain. A huge, armour-plated worm moved ponderously through
the fungal growths in the distance, too far away and slow to be a
threat. He hunkered down again to fill the water skins from the
pool. There was no sound, as before, and no smell, for which he was
grateful; the fungi looked distinctly rank.
    "Is there
somewhere we could rest, Purr?" he asked as he plugged the last
water skin.
    The mosscat
nodded. "Sure." He turned and headed away, wending his way between
the huge growths.
    Sabre glanced
at Tassin, who glared at the mosscat. "Come on." He beckoned to
her, and she approached, holding her ragged skirts out of the
slime.
    "This place is
disgusting," she muttered.
    "Be glad
that's all it is."
    Shooting him a
dark look, she preceded him after the mosscat, who waited ahead.
Her stumbling