The Far Side of Evil

by Sylvia Engdahl

  Keeping my voice steady, I declared, “You are making empty threats. You’ve already said that in my case a public trial is considered necessary, a trial at which I’ll be seen by people who are not well informed and whom you don’t wish to enlighten. Since I’m already sentenced, there’s no other reason to have any trial.”

  The Commander shook his head. “Evidently, you have less imagination than I credited you with,” he said wearily. “I won’t need to disfigure you; there are ways more subtle than that. Suppose, for instance, that you were to appear at your trial wearing dark glasses. Now, that might mean a number of things. It might conceal the effects of certain drugs, drugs that the public knows well enough must sometimes be used. It might indicate that your eyes were unusually sensitive to bright lights, or simply that you had a desire for privacy that we had mercifully permitted you to indulge. On the other hand, Elana, it might conceal blindness.”

  His eyes were not on my face but on the scope that monitored my reactions, and I knew that he was pleased by what he saw. I had given up all attempt to regulate them, and I doubt that I would have even been capable of it. “I would allow you a day or two to consider,” he said softly, “but as you know, our time is short.”

  “There’s nothing to consider,” I whispered. I do not suppose I sounded too convincing.

  Unfastening my bonds, Commander Feric grasped my arm and escorted me over to the window. I looked down on a tree-lined avenue, where pale autumn sunlight shone on a torrent of yellow leaves. The sky was very wide and very blue. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he observed. “You haven’t seen much beauty lately, for your cell is now bare and windowless. Perhaps you think it will always be so. But not necessarily; in a hospital, or even in another prison, you might be given a window with a view. At least a view of the stars, which I believe you used to enjoy watching. And you might eventually be allowed books. It would be a pity if you were unable to appreciate such advantages.”

  I didn’t answer. Suppose I was rescued someday? Even Federation science couldn’t always restore lost sight. Or suppose the whole thing was all for nothing, suppose they called my bluff and used the ship anyway?

  “You are making a very big sacrifice for the sake of a day or two more of silence,” he said. “Are you by any chance thinking that, since the value to me is less in the act itself than in the moments leading up to it, I will not carry the thing through? I assure you that’s not the case. If we start this, we will finish it unless you give the word to stop. And then, tomorrow, we will try something a little different that will make today’s heroics useless.”

  For a long moment we stood there, and then without waiting to be compelled I turned my back on the sunlit scene and returned to the chair. Commander Feric pressed the buzzer on his desk; two guards appeared at the door, followed by a white-clad orderly. I was strapped in again, and this time my head was secured, too, after which my eyes were taped open.

  “There are a number of ways in which this can be done,” the Commander told me, “some extremely painful, others less so. I’m not going to subject you to pain because we already know your reaction to that, and it is not the issue here. There will simply be a brilliant white flash, which will be the last thing your eyes respond to.” I swallowed. Done that way, with light against which no barrier could be erected, not even the Shield could save me; I would at least be spared the ordeal of deliberately dropping it.

  He rose again and came toward me, and the sympathy in his face at that moment was, I think, quite sincere. As I’ve said, he is not a sadist but merely a man who believes that anything leading toward his ultimate goal can be justified. And that is what we all believe; I do, too. People who justify immoral acts that way have set their sights too low, for the difference between us is in the ultimate goals we choose.

  The four men put on dark, heavy goggles. “There will be a countdown of five minutes, called at thirty-second intervals,” the Commander said. “Of course you realize that from my point of view, those minutes are the crucial ones. Use them wisely; don’t let false pride interfere with your common sense.”

  They were the longest minutes that I have ever spent. Determinedly, I fixed my mind on phrases from Service ritual, remembering something one of my instructors once said: “If you ever find yourself faced with something really bad, something inescapable against which you have no defense, your only recourse is to accept it. Once you’re absolutely sure that there’s no way out, don’t resist. Just relax and let it happen. That will seem hard, but believe me, it will be less painful than shrinking from the thing. You’ll get something from it—you won’t feel that you can; you won’t understand; but in the end you will gain, if not from the experience itself, then simply from your bravery.”

  The flash, when it came, was so bright that I felt rather than saw it, and afterwards there was only a red blur, fading into blackness. I remained perfectly still for a moment, numb with shock; then, unaccountably, I burst into hysterical, uncontrollable sobbing. All the pent-up tension of the past days came pouring out of me, leaving me limp, hollow, scarcely able to recall how it had felt to be in command of my feelings. Thinking back, I realize that that moment too was crucial and was a part of his design. Some people, once they break down like that, can’t ever get control again.

  I heard the order to unstrap me given and felt myself released, and as I dropped my head into my lap the Commander’s voice asked solicitously, “Are you sorry, Elana? Would you like to go back and replay the last thirty seconds of countdown?”

  Still crying, for I just couldn’t get a grip on myself, I choked out, “No!”

  “You are lying,” he asserted. “You did not think I would go through with it; you gambled and lost.”

  “It’s you who lost your gamble!” I lashed out fiercely. “Now you’ve nothing left to threaten me with.”

  “You think I can’t put you through anything worse. But you’ll learn. Tomorrow will be much worse, and you will realize then how foolish you were not to give in sooner.”

  “I don’t care what you do tomorrow.”

  “Not now, perhaps. Later, though, you’ll feel differently.” He put his arm around my shoulders in an almost fatherly way while, gradually, my sobs subsided. “So you have emotions after all,” he commented. “Strange as it may seem to you, Elana, I mean it when I say that I admire you. I admire courage, and I’ve discovered that you have genuine courage. For the first time since your arrest, you were truly afraid.”

  There didn’t seem to be much use in denying that, so I kept silent. Commander Feric went on, “That was what I had to find out. Before, you see, you were fearless, and I could not be sure how you would react to fear.”

  “Now you know,” I said bitterly. “It won’t help you much to prove the same point over again.”

  “No,” he agreed.

  “Then all your talk about tomorrow is meaningless.”

  My face was buried in my hands; he pulled them away from it and removed the tape from my eyelids, making me lift my head. “Elana, Elana,” he said with a sigh, “when will you understand that I’m trying to help you? That I’ve never wanted you to be hurt?” After a short pause he went on, “Tell me, do you see anything—shapes, perhaps?”

  That question didn’t rate an answer, and I ignored it. I closed my useless eyes and concentrated on listening, idly wondering how long it would be before my other senses—and my latent extrasensory skills, such as clairvoyance—would be sharpened.

  “You will see the shapes soon,” the Commander said quietly. “I misled you; the effect of the flash is not permanent. You will be blind for only a few hours.”

  I sat motionless, not daring to speak or even to think. This might be merely a refinement of cruelty designed to raise my hopes so that they might be further dashed as those hours passed. Or else… With resignation, I declared, “I understand now. Tomorrow you will use a different method, one more—more physical.”

  He laughed. “You underrate my judgment. Oh, I’ll n
ot deny that in an ordinary case what you suggest might have occurred to me. It is a technique that sometimes works where others fail; few people can stand up to the same threat a second time. But I’m convinced that you can, just as I was convinced beforehand that you could withstand it today.”

  “Beforehand? Why did you waste your valuable time, then?”

  “Only for your sake, Elana. Only to give you one last chance before subjecting you to what will be, for both of us, a less palatable form of pressure.”

  “If you’re trying to scare me again,” I said shakily, “you’re succeeding! But why bother, when you just agreed that it’ll do you no good to re-prove the point?”

  Commander Feric walked away from me, his footsteps sounding oddly loud because I could not see him. “Since you know so much psychology, Elana,” he said, “think about this: People are vulnerable to different things. Most are motivated by fear, so we start with that. Occasionally, we find someone who, like yourself, cannot be attacked successfully in that way; and then, of course, we are forced to change our tactics.”

  “Other tactics take time,” I reminded him.

  “Not always,” he replied slowly. “Sometimes a day or two is sufficient, as it is bound to be in your case. You see, I know you better than you think I do. Like any other human being you have a point of vulnerability, and I believe I’ve learned what it is.”

  He couldn’t have, I thought. He couldn’t possibly have guessed that I wasn’t Torisian.

  “Tomorrow,” he went on, “we will use an entirely different procedure. You will be placed in a situation where your immunities will be of no use. If you were the usual hardened professional, you could probably cope with that situation; but you are not a typical agent, and for you, Elana, it will be intolerable.”

  Hearing statements like that from a disembodied voice, when I could not see anything around me, was doubly terrifying, as he had undoubtedly known it would be. Moreover, my physical blindness was heightening my telepathic sensitivity, and from his emotions I knew that he was now absolutely sure of himself.

  “Come now,” he was saying, “you’re well versed in these matters; can’t you guess what I’m talking about?”

  I should have. I can’t see how I could have been so unsuspecting, for I thought I had no illusions left about Younglings.

  If he had wanted me to guess, I might have picked up his thought. But he did not; he no doubt felt that a night of agonized wondering would be more nerve-racking than the awful truth, which indeed it would have been, had I not been too drained of emotion to worry about anything at all. I was not taken back to my cell; instead, I was led to a room containing a soft bed, with blankets, and allowed an unbelievable twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep. The drugs I received must have been of a soothing variety, for I awoke feeling rested and refreshed. It was morning, and my sight had returned, and the sheer relief and joy of it almost made me forget that the day ahead was unlikely to be easy.

  Furthermore, I was given an adequate breakfast, more food than I had seen at one meal in a long, long time. The guards came for me before I had finished it; thinking to fortify myself against the next hungry day, I unobtrusively slipped the remaining piece of bread into the pocket of my prison uniform.

  At the intersection of corridors we turned not toward the interrogation room but toward my own cell, and I realized that I would be given plenty of time to worry after all. As I went through the familiar door I nearly stumbled over the corner of the bunk—the second bunk, the one that had hitherto been folded up against the wall. “You will no longer be isolated,” the guard told me impassively. “From now on you will have a cellmate.”

  Astonished, I stared at the girl who was sprawled on the bunk, face down, crying hysterically. I could not believe it. I was still too stupid to understand. They could not possibly think her my accomplice; if they did, they would have seized her long before this. And as for charging her with anything else, why, she had given them no cause even to suspect her opinions.

  For it was Kari.

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  Chapter 7

  I had thought that between the Academy’s instruction and my education on Andrecia, I had been made aware of all the ways in which I could be hurt—aware and forearmed. I was wrong. There are always new horrors to face. If there weren’t, who would need courage?

  When I found Kari in my cell this morning, I did not immediately take in the situation. I tried to tell her that, being innocent, she had nothing serious to worry about. We were given an hour of waiting during which Kari continued to sob violently, so overcome by the realization that her worst fear had come true that she was unable to grasp my assurance—veiled, since the cell was bugged—that I had not betrayed her, voluntarily or otherwise. Then we were taken, together, to Commander Feric. He ignored Kari, turning away from her as the guards strapped her into the chair, and addressed me instead. “You can’t complain to me, Elana,” he said sadly, “that you were not warned.”

  It wasn’t till then that I realized, with sickening despair, just why it was that they had arrested her.

  The Commander is not as ignorant as I once thought him to be. He had judged me pretty accurately, as a matter of fact. I had boasted that his methods could not touch me; it was I who was naïve. There was nothing very sophisticated or very startling in his new tactics. It doesn’t take a knowledge of psychic defenses to know that a person who is insensitive with regard to her own pain may prove less so when it comes to the question of someone else’s, especially when that someone is a close friend.

  “You are,” Commander Feric said to me thoughtfully, “the closest thing to a truly compassionate human being that I have ever encountered. You have more concern for others than for your personal welfare; that is the key to your motivation, the reason you’ve withstood every form of attack. And with that I will break you! It is not a strength, as you no doubt imagine, but your greatest weakness.”

  He brought in a panel of uniformed police to hurl the usual charges at Kari—espionage, attempted sabotage, and so forth—but although they bullied her unmercifully, alternating between screaming rage and icy sarcasm, none of them showed any evidence of actually believing these accusations. It was a theatrical performance, a carefully planned melodrama staged solely for my benefit. We went through some four or five hours of it, hours designed to wear down not Kari’s nerve but mine. Kari herself, of course, did not know that. She was terror-stricken, hysterical, and finally simply stunned, though at least she retained enough presence of mind to deny everything. Near the end she fainted, and they had to give an injection to revive her.

  Through it all I sat silent, alert to every detail of the proceedings and grimly aware that I had been given that extraordinary dose of rest and food precisely so that I would be. The Commander did not want me in a dazed condition any more than he had wanted me to be blind. For I knew, of course, what was coming next; they would not stop with mere questioning.

  When the assistant interrogators were dismissed and the guards approached Kari with what was to me a familiar set of apparatus, I thought I was going to faint, too. Mercifully, she did not yet understand the purpose of the electrodes that were attached to her. The preparation was done slowly, with great deliberation, and Commander Feric’s eyes were on me all the time. Finally, he leaned toward me and said, “All right, Elana. If this is the way it’s going to be, you shall have the privilege of explaining to your friend what is about to happen to her—and why.”

  I could have refused. I could have faked an emotional collapse and pretended to be another helpless victim, so that Kari would be more likely to think that the things he would undoubtedly tell her about me were lies. That would have been the easiest way, for me. But Kari would have no support at all unless I gave it to her. The situation had to be faced squarely.

  I stood up, feeling lightheaded but in full command of myself, and went over to her. You have more to draw on than you think, I guess; you can do what you have to
do. “Kari,” I said frankly, “this is the thing you’ve heard rumors about. It will hurt. It will be very frightening, but it can’t be avoided and it won’t injure you in any way. I’ve been through it, and I know.”

  The Commander said harshly, “That is scarcely an adequate explanation, Elana. This girl has just heard herself denounced as a spy and saboteur, charges that she knows to be untrue. She is now about to be tortured into confession of a crime she did not commit. You have not told her how she got into such a fix, or that it is in your power to get her out of it.”

  Kari looked up at me incredulously, beginning to take this in. I wanted to tell her what was at stake, but I knew I must not say anything that would suggest she was a Libertarian sympathizer; quite possibly the police hadn’t suspected that, and so far she’d had more sense than to give herself away. So there could be no self-justification on my part. “I can’t get either of us out of it, Kari,” I said steadily.

  “That is a barefaced lie,” Commander Feric informed her. “This young woman whom you think is your friend has in fact committed all the crimes of which you stand accused. Once she confesses to them, you will be free. It’s true enough that she has been through the experience that you are about to undergo, and has proved remarkably resistant to it. We have reason to think you will be less so, and that in the end she will not allow you to suffer in her place.”

  “No,” Kari whispered, “I don’t believe you!”

  “You don’t? Ask her, then. Ask her where she came from before she so conveniently developed a case of amnesia that allowed her to build a cover for herself around your generosity! Really now, haven’t you ever noticed anything strange about her? An air of mystery, so to speak, that doesn’t quite fit the story she told you?”