Endurance

by Richard Chizmar

  Eventually he caught both of my hands—and the flaring agony of what had to be a broken wrist made me groan and stop twisting. “Merely an exercise in obedience, OverLord.”

  “You should conduct more of them.” The Hsktskt eyed me and snorted. “She bleeds.”

  “Resisting PIC application. Again.” Reever hauled me over to a storage unit and sat me down beside it. “Remain there, Doctor, or I will sedate you.”

  The audacity of the command held me suspended in disbelief. When he removed a medical case and began clumsily treating my burn, I snatched the topical applicator away from him. “I’ll do it myself.”

  “I am pleased to find you here, Doctor.” TssVar lumbered over to watch as I cleaned the burn and temporarily splinted my broken wrist. “News has been relayed that will be of personal interest to you.”

  “Oh?” I clamped down on my strained emotions and gave him an uninterested glance. “The Hsktskt are giving up on the slave-trading business?”

  “Perhaps we will,” he said, and bared his teeth at my visible start. “I believe our main resources will be required by the war effort.”

  I stopped strapping my wrist. “War? With who?”

  “A signal was received by our border stations from Fendagal XI. It was sent by the Terran who experimented on you. He indicated the Allied League of Worlds will soon initiate an invasion of Faction held territories.”

  “The League is attacking the Hsktskt?” How could that many world leaders descend into simultaneous lunacy? Sent by the Terran who experimented on you. “Joseph Grey Veil gave you this information?”

  TssVar would have been blind to miss my expression. “I, too, was surprised by his actions. Until our intelligence sources on Fendagal XI reported that it was Grey Veil’s speech before the Ruling Council that convinced the League to declare war.”

  Joseph, playing both sides of the war. Hedging his bets, or something worse? “Why are you telling me this, OverLord?”

  “Your knowledge of this Terran and the League may prove valuable to me in the future.”

  How fast could I forget everything I knew about the League? “I’m not a military advisor,” I said. “Nor do I want to be one. Remember what happened the last time I got in the middle, on Aksel Drift Nine?”

  “You will not be given a chance to blow anything up this time, Doctor.”

  Reever released me to return to the infirmary, and I left him discussing the new threat with TssVar. My creator had instigated a war with the Hsktskt, then had warned them about it. None of it made any sense. What was he trying to do? Play both sides of the game? I knew my creator had no scruples, but this was bizarre, even for him.

  “There she is.”

  GothVar and several other centurons blocked the corridor ahead of me. Since I had a fresh, if somewhat hard-to-read PIC on my arm, I wasn’t too worried about him. “What do you want?”

  FlatHead tossed a syrinpress to me, which I caught reflexively. “That was brought to me. It contains trace amounts of adrenlatyne. Explain.”

  Who had turned me in? Vlaav? Zella? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Five dead Aksellans were removed from the infirmary. Yet none of the chamber monitors show them being transported to the disposal units. Where are they?”

  “Like I said, I haven’t a clue.” I maintained my bland expression.

  It didn’t work. “Take her to SrrokVar.”

  PART THREE

  Inquisition

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Crying Chambers

  If I’d known then to whom and where I was being taken, I wouldn’t have played the cooperative prisoner. But ignorance is temporary bliss, and all I felt as the centurons marched me through the corridors was a sort of numb relief. Whoever SrrokVar was, I thought, he wouldn’t let FlatHead do anything out of line to me.

  Not all the Hsktskt were pitiless sadists.

  We walked past the slave tiers and through a connecting passage to another, remote structure—the one the trustees said was guarded around the clock. The two lizards posted at the entrance panel never permitted prisoners past that point, or so I’d been told.

  A gesture from GothVar made one of the guards open the panel.

  Inside was an area filled with strange-looking equipment. Some I recognized—examination and dissection tables. Electroniscopic scanners. A full forensic analyzer array. Was this the Hsktskt version of a morgue?

  I had the feeling I wasn’t here to perform an autopsy.

  The main enclosure branched off into smaller, closed-panel corridors. Since the panels were closed and locked down, I couldn’t tell what lay behind them. Odd stains patterned the transparent floor, due to the conspicuous absence of the efficient Lok-Teel blobs. Never a mold around when you needed one. They’d have scrubbed every surface to a pristine clarity. The faint odor of urine, feces, and blood reached my nose, and made an internal alarm go off.

  Cherijo, this is not going to be fun.

  Standing in the center of the consoles and rigging was the strange Hsktskt who’d been with FlatHead when he’d branded me with the hand-laser. He was dressed in a fluid-proof garment that vaguely reminded me of surgical gear.

  “Dr. Torin.” The Hsktskt’s tail appendage curled up, then down. Probably what he thought of as a bow. Or he needed to use the lavatory. “I am Lord SrrokVar.”

  Which meant he was only a step below TssVar in the ranks. “Hello.” I made a show of gazing around me. “Nice place you have here.”

  “I am pleased you think so.” To the guards, he said, “You may leave us now.”

  FlatHead gave me a pointed snarl, then ushered the centurons out of the chamber. Why I wanted to yell for them to come back baffled me.

  “I’m gratified we will have the opportunity to become better acquainted.”

  Maybe it was the way SrrokVar was studying me. Like I was a small, tasty hors d’oeuvre. Or maybe it was that for a Hsktskt, he was extremely erudite. The whole package gave me the creeps.

  “Does OverMaster HalaVar know about this … visit?” It didn’t hurt to throw Reever’s name in the ring. Just in case Mr. Erudite intended more than a getting-to-know-you session.

  “If he knew you were helping slaves escape, HalaVar would have you placed in permanent solitary confinement.”

  There was that. “I didn’t help anyone escape, Lord SrrokVar. I tried to explain that to the OverCenturon, but”—I lifted my shoulders and rolled my eyes—“GothVar is not exactly fond of Terrans.”

  “Only too prevalent an opinion among my kind, I fear.” SrrokVar indicated a bare metal chair. “Sit down, please, Doctor.”

  Gingerly I lowered myself into the seat. “Am I here for discipline?”

  SrrokVar actually laughed—an eerie sound, coming from that inhuman throat. “No, my dear Dr. Torin. Like you, I am a physician. My field of study in xenobiology. I thought we might talk and … exchange experiences?”

  He simply wanted to chat. And I was a Larian flatworm. Still, what could I say? “All right.” I pretended to relax in the seat while I studied his equipment array. The treadmills and spinal traction rigs started to bug me. “We could use some of this stuff over in the infirmary. Can I borrow a few things, when we’re through?”

  “I have been informed that you treat slaves and Hsktskt alike.”

  “Someone’s got to do it.” I tapped my fingers on the narrow plasteel chair arm. “If you’re a physician, why aren’t you attending to your people?”

  “My aspirations require me to confine my efforts to research, Doctor. According to your records, you have worked on both a League colonial world and a Jorenian star vessel. I should like to hear about those experiences.”

  He was definitely too well-spoken for a lizard. I wasn’t inclined to share fond memories with a Hsktskt. “That would take awhile.”

  “We have sufficient time, once we clear up the matter for which you were brought here.” He tested, then adjusted the clamp on a grav-hoist. “You can do s
o by relating exactly what happened to the five Aksellans removed from your infirmary.”

  “Far as I know, their bodies were taken to a disposal and incinerated.”

  He extended a limb and pressed something on one of the consoles. A bright white light swept over me, and I got to my feet. “Don’t be alarmed. It is merely a body scan.”

  I stayed on my feet and cradled my injured arm. “I’ve been scanned before. Why now?”

  He studied the resulting display data. “Two minor carpal fractures. How did you injure your wrist?”

  Before I could reply, a door panel slid open, a centuron dragged a motionless prisoner into the central chamber. “Lord. This one has expired.”

  “As I expected.” SrrokVar picked up a data pad, made a brief entry, then flicked his tongue at the guard. “Take it to disposal. Bring another of its kind to replace it.”

  The guard dragged the dead body out to the connecting corridor. I began slowly inching over in the same direction.

  “Well, it’s been great meeting you,” I said. “And much as I’d love to stick around, I really have to get back to the infirmary.”

  “Oh, no, my dear.” SrrokVar had two limbs around me before I could blink. “You’re not leaving. Not until you give me all the information I require.”

  I refused to panic. Panic got me broken bones and burned arms. “Like I said, Lord SrrokVar, I didn’t help anyone. Those five patients died as a result of toxic reaction to the inhibitors they were given. I have living patients I need to attend to.”

  “Until you give me a satisfactory explanation, you will remain here.” He picked me up like a doll, trudged over, and placed me back in the metal chair. This time two half-circles of plasteel slid out and clamped around my abdomen and thighs. Through the door panel the guard had come from, I heard the faint sound of someone weeping.

  Crying … where had I heard that …?

  Crying chambers, one battered prisoner had said.

  Xenobiologists studied off-world species—not that there was a big demand for that career field on Terra. The distant memory of an infamous war criminal from a mid-twentieth century conflict came back to me. A doctor. It was discovered he’d been experimenting on interred prisoners at an infamous concentration camp.

  The stains on the floor and odd collection of equipment suddenly made sense. And me furious.

  “You’re experimenting on prisoners, aren’t you?”

  “I am determining the range of physical endurance limitations among non-Hsktskt species.” SrrokVar returned to his console and began inputting more data. “It is vital to know which slaves have the highest physical endurance ratios, so that an appropriate trade value can be assigned to them.”

  “And how do you determine these ratios?” My hands knotted into fists. “By torturing them?”

  “I prefer to think of my trials as testing.” He swiveled around, and calibrated a syrinpress as he approached me. “The few Terran trials I have conducted in the past have not yielded significant endurance factors in your species. However, your personal display of superior healing ability has intrigued me. I am looking forward to exploring it fully.”

  I told him what I thought of his monstrous work as he infused me. It got harder to swear as my tongue thickened, and the too-familiar lethargy of sedation seeped into my limbs.

  “You will change your mind,” he said as he released me, caught me before I fell, and began stripping my tunic from my body. “Let us begin with what happened to the Aksellans.”

  “Ak … sel … lans …”

  Everything got hazy from there. I broke through the drugged stupor several times to find myself naked, strapped down, and being subjected to a thorough physical examination.

  Have to stay awake. My bleary eyes wouldn’t cooperate. Have to know what he’s doing.

  When the sedative wore off, I realized I had been moved from the main chamber into a smaller section. I glanced down. My tunic had been replaced, and my arm throbbed. The support strap on my wrist had been augmented with a bonesetter. As for the PIC, it was healing. So fast I could almost feel the edges of the burn pulling together.

  I had no clue as to what SrrokVar had done. Had I told him about Noarr? Had he used other drugs to force information out of me?

  A broad strap of alloy across my chest manacled me into a sitting position against one wall panel. Another had been fastened to the back of my slave collar. I wasn’t alone. Prisoners of many different species lined the three sides of the chamber. A few were unconscious, the rest awake, all staring directly at me.

  “How long have I been out?” Sounds of distress and despair erupted around me. I repeated the question to the prisoner closest to me. He didn’t respond. No headgear. “Does anyone understand me?”

  “I do,” a listless, feminine voice said. “Two hours. Perhaps a little longer.”

  I craned my head over and saw a League Ensign’s tunic. A humanoid female was shackled three prisoners down from me. Dark fluid made matted patches in her pale hair, and her face was distorted by a dozen oddly shaped lumps.

  I didn’t recognize her species, but at least she spoke my language. “Were you on the Perpetua?”

  “No. The Stephenson.” The thin, weary-looking female rested her bulbous head against the transparent wall. “Why are you here? I thought you were an ally of the beasts.”

  “No, I’m not. I never was.”

  Her lips spread into a cynical grimace. “You will be now.”

  “Not me.” I tested the strength of the straps. I wasn’t going anywhere.

  The Ensign closed her three eyes. “You’ll do anything they want, Terran. It won’t get you out of here, but you’ll beg them to do it.”

  Before I could find out more, the chamber door panel slid open and SrrokVar entered, along with three guards. He pointed to me, the female Ensign, and the emaciated figure of a badly injured humanoid. “Bring these three.”

  The League female cringed. The other being was too far gone to offer more than a low whimper. I lifted my gaze to SrrokVar’s, and saw the avid interest glowing there.

  I’d seen that look before. It made me want to empty my stomach on his footgear. “You don’t need them. Take me.”

  “Your observations will prove instructional,” he said. “Perhaps after the trials, you can offer more enlightened opinions on the methods I employ.”

  I really was going to vomit. “I don’t need to see you in action, thanks.”

  The guard had to carry the injured humanoid, but the League Ensign fought them. In the end, they resorted to dragging her by the arms down the corridor. I walked behind them without protest. Watching for a chance to escape allowed me to focus on something besides the coming horrors.

  Only there were no chances.

  “Doctor, if you will resume your position there”—SrrokVar pointed to the metal chair I’d sat in before—“I can begin the latest test trials.”

  He actually expected me to seat myself and calmly observe this sickening abomination. “No. Put them back. I can be your test subject for today.”

  “You are.”

  The centurons shoved me in the chair, and one stayed to keep his rifle trained on me while SrrokVar briefly examined the first humanoid.

  “Hardly worth the time or effort, in this case. Still, I prefer my trials to be comprehensive. Put him there.” He indicated the treadmill, which had twin support clamps to hold the sagging prisoner in place. The half-dead alien’s body twitched spasmodically as he became aware of what was happening. That was worse than hearing him scream.

  “I have information!” The League Ensign clawed at SrrokVar’s gear with a desperate hand as the guards lugged her over to one of the traction rigs. “Good information—you’ll be pleased this time, I promise. Please, please, don’t do this to me again.”

  My teeth sank into my lower lip as I turned my head away. I couldn’t watch her, couldn’t be a witness to this. Not like this. Not helpless. “Lord SrrokVar, release these prisoners
, and I’ll jump through whatever hoops you want me to. I swear I will. Just let them go.”

  “In contrast, this species is most resilient.” SrrokVar said, as if he hadn’t heard me. He even patted the Ensign’s head with absent affection. “Today we will thoroughly test her structural limitations.”

  He was going to tear her apart. “You’re insane!”

  As the centurons forced the now sobbing League female’s limbs into restraint cuffs, it distracted the one watching me. I gripped the chair’s cold plasteel arms and searched the immediate area for anything I could use as a weapon. The only thing within reach was a data pad, sitting near me on a utility tray. I took it and tucked it under my arm.

  “Observe, Doctor.” SrrokVar activated the treadmill and placed a monitor patch on the heaving chest of the stumbling humanoid male. He motioned to one of the guards, who positioned himself behind the male. “Fracture one of his lower appendages.”

  The guard swung one of his limbs back. I was halfway to the treadmill before I heard the whipping sound and subsequent bone shatter.

  “No!” Let them shoot me. “Stop!”

  SrrokVar barred my path with his bulk. “You must not interfere with my test subjects, Doctor. All I require now is your clinical observation.”

  “Get out of my way.” I tried to go around him, but he was bigger and faster. The Ensign’s shrieks increased in intensity as the traction rig gears whined. I saw that counterweights had been programmed to pull her body in four different directions. “You can’t do this to them!”

  “I’m a scientist.” SrrokVar folded two limbs across his broad chest. “Surely you can appreciate how valuable the knowledge I gain is for the Faction. Now, if you’ll observe the Unohew male, he manages to support his entire body weight on a single appendage. Quite well, as it happens. However, his species has no natural endorphins, which creates—”

  I jammed the corner of the data pad into one of SrrokVar’s eyes, darted around him and saw the humanoid male’s unconscious body being dragged backward by the treadmill track. I lunged for the control panel to the traction rig, and managed to slam my fists into the keypad before the first pulse burst over my back.