“You have medicine?” my captress asked.
“I do,” I said, opening the medpack at my waist. “But I don’t think it will do much good. She appears to have lost a lot of blood and needs medical attention.”
“Where will she get it? Not from you swine invaders.”
“Perhaps.” I was busy with pressure points, tearing off the old bandages, sprinkling on antiseptic powder and applying better bandages. “Her pulse is slow and very weak. I don’t think she will make it.”
“If she doesn’t—you killed her.” Tears were in my opponent’s eyes, though this did not stop her from keeping the blunderbuss pointed at my midriff.
“I’m trying to save her, remember? And you can call me Vaska.”
“Taze,” she said automatically. “Sergeant in the Guard before they took over.”
“They?” I felt slightly confused. “You mean them, us, the army of Cliaand?”
“No, of course not. But why am I talking to you when I should be killing you…”
“You shouldn’t. Kill me I mean. Would you believe me if I told you I was a friend?”
“No.”
“That I was a spy from elsewhere now working against the Cliaands although I am in their Space Armada?”
“I would say that you are a worm pleading for your worthless life and willing to say anything.”
“Well it’s true, anyway,” I grumbled, realizing she wasn’t going to take my revelations on faith.
“Taze…” the girl on the table said weakly and we both turned that way. Then “Taze” again and died.
I thought I was dead as well. Taze swung the rifle up and I could see her knuckles whiten as she squeezed. I did a lot of things quickly, starting with a dive to get under the gun and a roll right into her. The gun fired—the blast almost taking my head off in the confined space—but I wasn’t hit. Before she could fire again I had the barrel in my hand and did a quick chop at the muscles in her arm and a few other things one does not normally do to women except in an emergency like this. Then I had the rifle, as well as my pistol back, and she was lying against the wall with something to really cry about this time. It would be a number of minutes before she could use her fingers again; I had stopped just short of breaking the bone.
“Look I’m sorry,” I said, putting my pistol away and fumbling with the archaic mechanism of the rifle. “I just didn’t feel like getting killed at the moment and this was the only way that I could stop you.” I worked the bolt and ejected all the cartridges, then squinted inside to make sure I hadn’t missed any. “What I told you was true. I am on your side and want to help you. But you will have to help me first.”
She was puzzled, but I had her attention. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve when I handed back her rifle, then widened them when I passed over the ammunition.
“I would appreciate it if you would keep that weapon unloaded for the moment. I’ll trade you information if you don’t want to give it freely. There is an organization you probably never heard of who is very interested in what the Cliaand are doing. And what they are doing is interstellar invasion—Burada is the sixth on the list and it looks as though it will be as successful as the others.”
“But why do they do this?”
I had her interest now and I rushed on.
“The why isn’t important, at least not for the present, since evil ambitions are not unusual among the varied political forms of mankind. What I want to know is the how. How did they get away with this invasion in the face of the defenses of the planet?”
“Blame the Konsolosluk,” she said with vehemence, shaking the rifle. “I’m not saying that the Women’s Party didn’t make mistakes, but nothing like theirs.”
“Could you fill in some background detail, because I’m afraid that you’ve lost me.”
“I’ll give you detail. Men!” She spat and her eyes glowed with anger and she was beginning to look attractive again. “The Women’s Party brought centuries of enlightened rule to this planet. We had prosperity, there was a good tourist trade, no one suffered. So maybe men voted a few years later than women or couldn’t get the best jobs. So what? Women suffered through this sort of thing—and worse—on other planets, and they didn’t revolt. Those Konsolosluk, sneaking around everywhere, whispering lies. Men’s rights and down with oppression and that kind of thing. Getting people worked up, winning a few seats in parliament, disturbing the country. Then their one day revolution, seizing everything, getting control. And all their promises. All they wanted to do was strut around and act superior. Some superior! Worthless all of them. Know nothing of Government or fighting. When your pigs landed more of these men ran away than fought, weak fools. And surrendering rather than fighting. I would never have surrendered.”
“Perhaps they had to.”
“Never. Weaklings, that’s all.”
All of which gave me pause to think, and with thought came suspicion and after this the dawning light of discovery. Pieces began to fall into shape in my mind and I tried not to get too excited. It was a formless idea yet—but if it worked—if it worked!
Then I would know how the Cliaandians managed their invasion trick. Simple, like all good ideas, and foolproof as well.
“I’ll need your help,” I told Taze. “I’ll stay in the Space Armada, at least for the moment, since I can learn more there. But I won’t leave this planet. This is where the Cliaandians are the weakest and this is where they are going to be beaten. Have you ever heard of the Special Corps?”
“No.”
“Well you have now. It is, well, it is the group that is going to help you. I work for them and they should be keeping an eye on me. They saw the fleet leave Cliaand and are certain to have followed it here. That was one of the developments we had planned for. Right now a message drone should be circling this planet. It will relay any messages to the Corps and we will have all the help we need. Can you get access to a medium powered radio transmitter?”
“Yes—but why should I? Why should I believe you? You could be lying.”
“I could be—but you can’t take the chance.” I scratched feverishly on a message form. “I’m leaving you now, I have to get back to my ship before they begin to wonder where I have gone. Here is the message you are to transmit on this frequency. You can do it without getting caught, it’s easy enough. And you lose nothing by doing it. And you may save your planet.”
She was still doubtful, looking at the paper.
“It’s so hard to believe. That you are really a spy—and want to help us.”
“You can believe he is a spy, take my word for it,” a voice said from the doorway behind me and I felt a cold hand clamp down on my heart. I turned, slowly.
Kraj, the man in gray was standing there. Two other gray uniformed men stood behind him leveling their weapons at me. Kraj pointed his finger like a third gun.
“We have been watching you, spy, and waiting for this information. Now we can proceed with the destruction of your Special Corps.”
Chapter 13
“People seem to be popping up in doorways a lot today, ha ha,” I said with a joviality I certainly did not feel. Kraj smiled a very wintry smile.
“If you mean the colonel, yes, I had him watching you. Now try to act the fool. Pas Ratunkowy, or whatever your name really is.”
“Hulja, Vaska, Lieutenant in the Space Armada.”
“Flight-Major Hulja has been found in the Dosadan-Glup Robotnik Hotel, which discovery put us on your trail. Yours was a most ingenious plan and might have succeeded had not an optical pickup burned out. The repairman sent to order the matter discovered the Flight-Major and his delusion about the date and this was brought to my attention. I’ll take that.”
Kraj lifted the message form from Taze’s unresisting fingers. He seemed very much in control of the situation. I clutched my chest in the area of my heart, rolled up my eyes and staggered backwards.
“Too much…” I muttered. “Heart going… don’t shoot… this is the end.�
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Kraj and his two men looked on coldly while I was going through all this for their benefit, until the dramatic moment when I clutched at my throat and shrieked with pain, my body arched and every muscle taut, then fell over backwards through the window.
It was nicely done with plenty of crashing glass, and I flipped in midair and landed on my shoulder and did a roll and came up to my feet, ready to run.
Looking right up the barrel of a gaussrifle held by another silent and unsmiling man in gray. He scored zero as a conversationalist and for the moment I could think of nothing bright to say myself. Kraj’s voice came clearly through the broken window behind me.
“Take the girl to the prison camp, we have no further need for her. The rest of us will return with the spy. Be on guard constantly, you have seen what he can do.”
Not very much, I thought to myself in a sudden gloomy depression. Not very much at all. I had penetrated all right, and found out what I wanted to know, but I had not been able to get my information out. Which made it useless. Worse than useless. Kraj might be able to turn my message to his own ends which I was sure were pretty nasty ones. This dark state of mind persisted while the rest of the doom-faced gray men surrounded me and trotted me off to a waiting truck. There was no chance at all to escape: they were very efficient with those guns.
It was a brief trip, though a remarkably uncomfortable one. The vehicle was a captured Burada truck that must have been used for the transport of garbage or something worse. I was the only one who seemed bothered by the permeating smell. The gray men neither commented on it nor took their eyes from me once during the trip, At least the vehicle was silent and smooth; it burned gas in a fuel cell to generate electricity—supplied to a separate drive motor in each wheel. I considered desperate plans of ripping up one of the cables where it passed by my feet, of leaping out of the rear of the truck and so forth. None of this was much good and we reached our destination with our relative positions unchanged. At gunpoint I was herded into a commandeered building, into an empty room where, still at gunpoint, I was ordered to strip. With a portable fluoroscope and cold probes, most humiliating, they removed all devices and gadgetry from my person, then gave me new clothes.
These clothes were something else again. A single-piece overall made of soft and flexible plastic they provided protection and warmth for the wearer. Yet they were the ideal prison dress because they were completely transparent. This continual shielded-nakedness was certainly not morale building and I began to have even more respect for the gray men. And everything done in silence despite my attempts at conversation. The final sartorial touch was a metal collar that locked around my neck. A cable ran from the collar to a box one of the gray men held. All of this had a very ominous look to it. My suspicions were justified when the others left with all of the weapons and he faced me, box in hand.
“I can do this,” he said in a voice as gray as his garb and pressed a button on the box.
The thing I experienced next was quite unexpected and singularly painful. In a single instant I was blinded by exploding lights of a color and fury I had never seen before. Sound greater than sound filled my ears and every square inch of my skin burned with fire as though I had been dropped into an acid bath. These interesting things went on for a longer time than I really appreciated and then suddenly vanished as quickly as they had begun. Sight and hearing returned and I found myself lying on the floor with a sore spot on the back of my head where I had cracked it when I fell. It felt rather good just to lie there. That little box must generate neural currents on selected frequencies. No need to torture the body when you can feed specific pain impulses into the nervous system.
“Stand,” my captor said, and I did rather quickly.
“If you wish to convey the message that you can do that whenever you want, and right now you want me to behave—the message has been received. But speak and I shall obey. I’ll be a good boy.”
For the time being. Until I found a way to get out of this stainless steel rat trap. I trotted along docilely to another room where Kraj waited for me behind a large metal desk. The room was dusty and blank areas on the wall showed where pictures and pieces of furniture had been removed. The only new item, other than the desk, was a shining hook recently affixed in the ceiling. I was not at all surprised when the hook fitted into a ring on the box and I was leashed, standing before my captor.
Kraj looked me up and down, examining me closely, a very easy thing to do considering the transparent condition of my clothing. I have never suffered from a nudity taboo so this did not bother me. It was the cold and unemotional look in his eyes that was more off-putting. At the present moment I was, to use the classical term, completely at his mercy. I had no idea of what nastiness he had in mind for me and I determined to at least attempt to ameliorate it a bit.
“What would you like to know?” I asked.
“A number of things, but that will come later.”
“What’s wrong with now? Considering the state of modern hypnotic techniques, drug therapy and old-fashioned torture—like your nerve machine here—it is impossible to keep facts from a determined interrogator. Therefore ask and I shall answer.” What little I knew about the Special Corps he was welcome to. All of the locations of the bases were kept secret from us, undoubtedly with an interrogation like this in mind. I was surprised when he shook his head in a slow no.
“You will give me the information later. First you must be convinced of the seriousness of my aims. I intend to question you, then to enlist your services in our cause. Voluntarily. In order to convince you of this I must begin by saying you will not be killed. Strong men face death bravely. It is an easy escape from their problems. You have no such escape.”
I was becoming less and less intrigued all the time by what he had to say. I had expected a rough questioning session, but he had bigger things in mind. So I dropped the bantering tone and gave it to him straight.
“Forget it. Face the fact that I do not like you or your organization or what you stand for, and I do not intend to change my mind. Even if I promise to aid you you can never be sure that I mean it—so let us not get involved in this sort of farcical position to begin with.”
“Quite the contrary,” he said, and touched a button on his desk. The box above hummed and reeled in the thick wire pulling me upward until I had to stand on tiptoe in order to breathe, the collar biting into my neck. “Before I am through with you you will be begging me for the opportunity to cooperate and will cry when I do not permit it, until you reach the happiest moment in your life when you are at last granted your single wish. Let me demonstrate one of our simpler but most convincing techniques.”
My feet vibrated with pain but I had to stay on my toes or I would have been strangled by the collar. Kraj rose and walked behind me where I could not see him—then seized both my wrists and pushed them down against the edge of the metal desk. The desk obliged him by snapping two cuffs about my wrists, clamping them there. Not about my wrists, this isn’t exactly true, but about my lower arm, leaving my wrists and hands free. Not that I could do anything more than drum my fingertips on the tabletop. Kraj reappeared and bent to take something from a drawer in the desk.
It was an ax. A long handled, steel edged ax of a primitive and efficient sort that could be used to chop down trees. He took it in both hands and raised it high over his head.
“What are you doing? Stop!” I shouted in sudden fear, writhing in the metal embrace, unable to do anything except stare while he held the ax high for a moment. Then brought it down with a vicious, forceful chop.
I suppose I screamed when it hit, I must have, the pain was large and consuming.
As was the sight of my right hand severed from the wrist, lying unmoving on the desk top, the spout of blood from my wrist pumping out and drenching it. The ax went up again and this time I am sure I shouted aloud, screamed, all the time it went up and flashed down and my left hand was severed like the right and my life’s blood spouted o
ut all over the desk and ran down to the floor.
And through the pain and the terror that possessed me I was aware of Kraj’s face. Smiling. Smiling for the first time.
Then I was unconscious. Blacking out, dying, I couldn’t tell. The world rushed away from me down a dark tunnel and I was left with the sensation of pain alone and then even that was gone.
When I opened my eyes I was lying on the floor and a period of unmeasured time had gone by. My thoughts were thick with sleep or something else and I had to work to dredge up the memory of what had happened. Only when the startling vision of my severed hands came to me clearly did I open my eyes and sit up, rubbing one hand with the other. They felt perfectly normal. What had happened?
“Stand up,” Kraj ‘s voice said, and I realized that I was sitting on the floor before his desk and that the collar was still in place about my neck with its wiring running up to the device on the ceiling. I stood, slowly, and looked at his clean desk. There was no blood.
“I would have sworn…” I said and my voice died away as I saw the two great grooves in the metal top of the desk as though it had been hit twice with some heavy blade. Then I lifted my hands before my face and looked at my wrists.
Each wrist was circled by a red weal of healing flesh with the sharp red points of removed stitches along the edges. Yet my hands felt as they always did. What had happened?
“Are you beginning to understand what I mean?” Kraj asked, once more seated behind the desk, his voice as gray as his clothing.
“What did you do? You couldn’t have amputated my hands and sewed them back. I could tell, it would take time, you couldn’t…” I realized that I was starting to babble and I shut up.
“You don’t believe it happened? Should I do it again?”
“No!” I said, almost shouting the word, drawing back from him. He nodded approvingly at this.
“So the training begins. You have lost a little bit of reality. You do not know what happened—but you do know that you do not wish it to happen again. This is the way it will go. Eventually you will lose all touch with the reality you have known all your life, and then will lose contact with the person you have been all your life. When you reach that state we will accept you as one of us. Then you will go into great detail about your Special Corps, not only racking your memory for crumbs of fact you may have missed, but in actively originating plans for their destruction.”
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