***
Stefan studied the Sansoussy. Was he meditating? It might be a good thing. He seemed pretty upset. The Disciplines would bring his anger under control. But why was he smiling so strangely? And why was his face so pale?
Stefan leaned closer, close enough to smell the faint odor of wood smoke that clung to the forest dweller’s clothes. The Sansoussy didn’t react to Stefan’s closeness. Stefan put one hand on the man’s neck. His pulse was so faint, Stefan could barely feel it. “Goddamn!”
Toth hurried to the sofa, Merced right behind him. “What now, Baron?” Merced asked. “I thought he wasn’t badly hurt?”
“He wasn’t,” Stefan said. “But now he’s killing himself. Get out your kit, Toth. Give him a jolt of empranimine, and do it quickly.”
“Empranimine?” Toth asked, as he ripped open the medical kit on his belt. “What good will a pain killer do?”
“It interferes with the brain’s chemistry,” Stefan said, all but twitching with impatience. “He won’t be able to control his autonomic functions. Hurry up, man!”
Toth pressed the hypospray tube against the Sansoussy’s arm and activated the switch. After several seconds, Ran-Del began to breathe more normally, and color returned to his face. In a few more seconds, he opened his eyes and moaned. He put both hands to his forehead as if he had a headache.
Stefan let out a ragged breath. “It serves you right if your head hurts! Why the hell did you want to kill yourself?”
Ran-Del groaned. He closed his eyes and rocked back and forth on the sofa, muttering to himself. Finally, he opened his eyes and glared at Stefan. “What did you do to me? I can’t achieve samad state—not even the First Discipline!”
Stefan heard the rage and frustration in the other man’s voice, but he was unrepentant. “I gave you something to stop you from taking your own life. Why did you do it? Have I hurt you in any way?”
“Hurt me?” Ran-Del’s tone made the two words a condemnation. “You shut me in this airless prison, many days’ march from my own people, and you ask if you’ve hurt me? Go away and let me die!”
“No.” Stefan said, bending close to make his point. “You may think you want to die now, but you’ll come around.”
Ran-Del’s right hand shot out at him, palm hyper-extended and the heel of his hand aimed at the bridge of Stefan’s nose. Stefan jerked back as Merced blocked the blow with a counter punch that drove Ran-Del’s arm up harmlessly, and Toth discharged his weapon, swiveling it in the holster so that he could fire without drawing it.
Stefan gasped at the suddenness of the attack. If the Sansoussy hadn’t been groggy from the drug, he might well have succeeded in delivering what could only have been meant as a killing blow.
Ran-Del cried out when the force of Toth’s weapon hit him. His muscles jerked as his nervous system suffered the assault. He collapsed onto the sofa and lay sprawled wildly across it, gasping.
Stefan laid him more neatly on the cushions. He stood looking down at the Sansoussy. Had he made a mistake? Perhaps, but too much was at stake to give up now. He turned to go.
“Is it safe to leave him, sir?” Merced asked. “How long will the empranimine last?”
“Long enough.” Stefan would have to take steps if he was going to keep his prisoner alive. A dead Sansoussy was of no use, and would leave him with a guilty conscience with nothing gained in return. He went out the door into the corridor and gave one last glance back at the man now lying quietly on the sofa.
Toth and Merced headed back to the security office, but Stefan made his way to the private parlor at the end of the corridor. When he opened the door, he found his daughter Francesca sitting negligently in a chair, one hand propping up her chin, the other smoothing her short black hair. She rose as he came into the room and stood defiantly, as if to challenge his authority.
“Well, Pop,” she said, “how did it go with my intended?”
The Sixth Discipline Page 5