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the mud with my boot heel, uncovering an object that vaguely resembled the portable data storage devices that even pre-Deliverance humans had developed. I picked it up and inspected it. Apart from one small button, it was a plain and featureless cigar shape with one flat side to prevent it rolling away when put down. I pressed the button and a data spike like those I’d encountered in the space shuttle shot out. I pressed it again and the spike retracted.
    “Doctor Melon’s gift,” I muttered. I assumed he must have buried it here in case he decided not to give it to me, if he’d managed to meet me in person, in my cave. Now, I’m pretty curious for a machine, but stabbing this thing into my ear, just to see what it did, didn’t strike me as a sensible idea, especially considering Melon’s disappointment with the way I was turning out. Well sorry ‘dad’, I don’t want to be like you.
    Melon’s buried item inspired me to bury Q4’s body. I could chuck it in the sea but I wasn’t sure if even Deliverance’s voracious sea-life would be able to dispose of that kind of body for me. Besides, a use for a dead, broken cyborg body might materialise one day. So instead I spent twenty precious minutes speed-digging a grave and cramming the cyborg’s remains into it, before covering it up and smoothing the surface over as neatly as I could. I made a note of the exact location in my memory.
    I clutched the data storage module in one hand and picked up Q4’s head by its hair with the other. Q4 didn’t speak, but just glared at me like a sulking toddler, whenever its eyes were able to see mine. I shrugged and then made a controlled jetpack descent – pay attention Doctor Melon’s ghost – to my cave. Being a prudent cyborg, I had a bag packed ready for evacuation at all times. I didn’t need much, just jetpack fuel, food and some clothes. I dropped Q4’s head and the storage device into the bag, then I picked up my favourite cuddly toy, wondering just where the fuck a grubby leopard’s arse fitted into all this, if at all. I shoved that in too, zipped the bag up and carried it outside the cave. It was too busy here these days – I’d have guided tour buses pulling up before too long if I stayed. Come see the mighty fortress of the insane killer cyborg! Please note: We will not be held liable for people falling off the cliff. Novelty toasters can be ordered from our ‘net-page.
    I paused on the narrow, bloodstained ledge outside the cave to send a brief message to a few recipients, which read:
     
    Poker night, guys! Two days early, but the usual time. Although this time I’m serious, there’s a ludicrously high chance that I’ll get you all killed.
     
    See you there,
    Z.
     
    I wondered momentarily as to why the new Cyborg Net – just my little name for it – had gone silent, since Q4 hollered for backup. Either they didn’t talk much, or they’d revoked my access, which was so sensible a thing to do, that you had to wonder why they’d not done it before they’d let me know reinforcements were coming. I couldn’t detect the network anymore, but then I’d never been able to previously, so that didn’t mean much. If I’d been disconnected I’d try not to cry too much over the rejection. I allowed myself a well-simulated chuckle as I dived off the cliff and fired up the jetpack. Destination: Boram Bay.

Chapter Eight
     
    Boram Bay by night was just as ugly a sight as it was by day. It had become a huge city by Deliverance standards, with a population estimate of nearly five million. The centre of the city was where this particular colony ship had landed and undergone a remarkable transformation. The settler generation initially carried on living in the ship’s habitation dome, which detached from the rest of the ship, embedded itself in the ground and opened up to Deliverance’s atmosphere. Voila, all the shantytowns that the people had lived in for generations aboard the ship were now part of the