The DrearGyre

by Leslie Lee

out of it is likely to be sheer nonsense anyway. Amateur.”

  “The Beloved Nephew’s hospitality does not include the need for information.”

  He really cursed this time as he scanned the body. “It’s a waste of our time and resources, Commander. It is simply not worth it.”

  “If she is beyond your capabilities, doctor, then there is no shame in lack of expertise.”

  He glared at her. “Well, I suppose we can’t disappoint the Beloved Nephew then can we? Are you going to stay?”

  “Yes, my students need to learn.”

  “Operating room five,” he barked at his assistants. He pointed to a gallery. “You lot up there. No fainting.”

  Syll and the students made their way to a place where they could look down into the operating room. She could see how the students struggled for their personal control.

  “Be careful, dammit,” the doctor groused, as they transferred her onto the operating table. “Let’s not lose any other bits of it. What the hell’s this garbage? Some idiot’s idea of life support?”

  He disconnected some equipment from her and flung it on the floor. An assistant activated the sterile field to surround the patient in a pale blue glow.

  The doctor looked up at Syll. “Do you want us to use anesthetic, pain killers on it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Which ones, doctor?” his assistant asked

  “All of them. No, wait, use a brain suppressor. An anesthetic will kill it.”

  He looked over the medical scanners.

  “Hmm, where to start. I think everything that can break is broken. Everything that can shut down is shut down. Let’s get some blood into it. Put the respirator on it. Its lungs are almost crushed. Okay, let’s go after this little fellow first, eh?”

  Syll frowned and the students leaned forward. He forced what looked like forceps between the patient’s legs, then fished around.

  “Got you,” he grunted. Using both hands, he struggled with something. Then slowly he extracted a third of a meter long, spined worm.

  The students jerked back. One mumbled a curse his hand going to his mouth.

  The thick, pink colored worm hissed, spitting red and black blood as it whipped itself around the forceps, mandibles snapping at the doctor.

  “What is that?” a student cried.

  “It is called a twin worm,” Syll imparted, though she too fought for control. “It has a twin which is its mate. In this particular case, one twin is inserted into a subject and the other into another subject. The worms use hormones to control their hosts into performing sexual intercourse in order for them to complete their own reproductive cycle. A form of zombifying somewhat similar to what some insects do to other insects. In this case, though, the twin worms can exercise much control over larger organisms. Some view this process as an aphrodisiac though the hosts themselves find no pleasure. They are completely controlled unable to stop and unable to finish until one or both subjects die to become food for the eggs laid in both hosts. When used in this manner, the worms are sterilized so that the hosts can endure longer.”

  “What did the other one go into?” one asked. “Can you tell?”

  The doctor shook his head. “Somebody kill this damned thing.” A nurse reached over and gingerly electrocuted the parasite. “From the looks of these bristles all over it, my guess is the twin was injected into some kind of animal. Maybe one of those Klingon swine things. I’ve heard that in some parts of our wonderful universe they wager on which of the hosts will die first. They can last for days.”

  Syll nodded. “Our order dispensed with such crude techniques a long time ago. But you should become aware of all protocols than can yield results. This particular methodology, however, is inefficient and worse, ineffective. Though the subject is completely aware of what is happening, that does not mean they are able to produce credible data. Those who become enamored with technique over purpose are incompetent and have no place in our Order. Remember, our goal is actionable and verifiable information. Anything else just wastes our time.”

  The doctor looked at the monitors and poked around inside of 783766’s body. “Doesn’t seem to be any other creatures lurking around down here.”

  “Are those bite marks from the Klingon swine thing?” a student asked.

  The doctor looked up. “Some. The others are humanoid.”

  “This is a good opportunity to see detailed Human anatomy,” Syll said. “Since 738766 is still alive, we are able to observe first hand many things that would otherwise be mere academic exercises.”

  There was silence from the students. Then one said, “We are grateful, Commander Syll.”

  “Hmm,” said the doctor examining Kari’s mouth. “What’s this?”

  One of the students grabbed her seat. They all leaned back from the window. Even the medical staff drew away. He held Kari’s mouth open with a tool while he hunted around. Then, he pulled out a small piece of something. It didn’t move.

  “Well, well, well. Appears our little Human here has bitten something off. Something... Yes, I would say something Romulan.”

  “Can you say what it is?” one of the students asked a little relieved.

  “Not without further testing, but one can only hope, eh?” He patted his patient on the head, chuckling. “Good girl.”

  The student winced and crossed his legs.

  “We’re going to have to regenerate some if not all of her organs. She’s as dead as anyone can get without being dead. It’s going to be a long night, boys and girls. A long night.”

  It was closer to two days. The students left when their other duties demanded. Syll stayed to watch the whole time. The students brought her food which she left mostly uneaten. The doctor personally worked on her for the entire operation. He even consulted Federation databanks for guidance. Anyone could access general medical information and it raised no alarms.

  He finally leaned on the table and disengaged his mask. The light from the sterile field around the table illuminated the fatigue on his face.

  “Damn Humans,” he said tiredly. “Fragile creatures. All of them. This one’s a little tougher. Pity.”

  “Will she live?”

  “Maybe. She should be dead. You’ve done her no favors, Commander.”

  Syll stiffened. “This was not done as a favor, doctor.”

  “No, I suppose not. My apologies.” He wiped his brow exhausted.

  “How will she be psychologically?”

  “The concussions and skull fractures are fairly well healed. Neurologically, she’s in fair condition. But if you’re asking me what kind of shape she’s going to be in mentally when she wakes up... I’m afraid you’re the expert there, Commander.”

  They transferred her to a ward and kept her in a coma. Syll went home and slept. When she awoke, she exercised and meditated. She needed to keep her thoughts as quiet as she could. Once though, she allowed herself to slam her fist into her desk. Sometimes, the Vulcans’ ability to suppress their emotions looked very tempting as she surveyed the wrecked furniture.

  The scores of the students improved. She often found one of them in 738766’s ward. They said they were doing as she had instructed and were availing themselves of the opportunity to examine her. She said the same thing.

  “We’re going to try to wake her,” the doctor said studying the medical readings again.

  “Is she ready?” Syll inquired.

  “We’ll find out when we wake her.”

  “Transfer her to her cell, doctor. When she awakes...”

  “If she awakes.”

  “As you say. Then I want her in a secure location.”

  They used a grav sled to transfer her to the cell. The students had made a real bed for the Human. The medical staff carefully lifted her onto the padding. Syll noted the doctor had equipped the patient with a new universal translator bracelet. The doctor still had hope. The neuro suppressor on her forehead glowed green. A Federation design. They had already decided against using restra
ints on her. The guards were present and if necessary, they could use the pad to knock her out.

  Syll found herself holding her breath when the doctor plucked the suppressor from the Human’s forehead.

  They waited.

  She raised an eyebrow at the doctor.

  “There’s nothing more I can do, Commander. A stimulant of any efficacy would probably just kill her. She’s in your hands now. Try not to let anyone undo what I’ve just done.”

  “I recommend, doctor, you spend some time researching Human medical information.”

  He cursed, then led his team away.

  The Human’s eyelids remained closed. The eyes didn’t move beneath the thin skin. At least she was breathing on her own. Shallow and slow.

  “738766,” Syll whispered. “738766, wake up.”

  She watched the pad for changes in her biometrics. Anything that indicated she heard. But the signals remained steady if slightly depressed.

  “Her mind may be broken,” one of the students said.

  “We could use a very low jolt on the pain module to see if it will awaken her,” said another.

  “Call me if there is any change,” she told the guards. “We have class, students.”

  In the class room, she realized she could hold their attention by having them discuss what they had just seen. How to tell the difference between someone who is faking unconsciousness and who is not. How to keep the body from becoming unconscious as questioning proceeded. They debated the finer points of using primitive interrogation techniques. Why mind probes would be ineffective in this prisoner’s case. A properly trained agent would defeat mind probes while imparting false