S. L. Viehl - Stardoc 03 - Endurance

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For Holly Lisle, who never ceases to amaze me- thanks for helping me handle my own sympathy for the
devil.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’d like to thank Gerry Coughlin, author of Everyday English and Slang in Ireland, whose online
dictionary of the same at <http://www.geocities.com/Research Triangle/8662/irish> provided an
invaluable linguistic resource for this novel. (And if I made a hash of it, Gerry, it’s my fault, not yours.)
(EDG note: this website has moved to http://www.at.artslink.co.za/~gerry/irish.htm)
PART ONE: Incarceration
CHAPTER ONE
L.T.F. Perpetua
“… may it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the art, respected by all men at all times.”
-Hippocrates (460?-377? B.C.)
Wishful thinking, Hippocrates old pal. My life was ruined, my practice was over, and I sure as
hell wasn’t getting any respect around here lately.
“The Hanar rules over the Hsktskt Faction.” The metallic audio of the automated
prisoner-orientation program droned in my ears. I’d been forced to listen to the stupid thing for days.
“One maintains rank of Hanar.”
The isolation cell the Hsktskt had thrown me in was small, dark, and cold. I had no clothes. No
food or water. Worse, no lavatory, only a drain in the concave floor.
You can guess how thrilled I was with the amenities.
“There are two subHanar. Should the Hanar die, the senior subHanar assumes the rank of
Hanar.”“I’ll make a note of it.”
I had little else to do, but sneer at the voice, and wonder what was going to happen to me.
Some of this mess was my fault. I’d been forced to surrender to the League in order to protect
Joren, the homeworld of my adopted people. The Hsktskt Faction had shown up to raid Joren shortly
thereafter. Again to save Joren, I had helped the Faction capture the League fleet.
My clever strategy had backfired when I learned my new husband, Duncan Reever, had not only
summoned the Hsktskt to Joren, but worked for the big lizards. The final blow came when Reever
revealed he’d also captured and enslaved my large feline friend, Alunthri.
That was when I’d tried to kill him.
The door panel opened once an hour, when a Hsktskt centuron counted me. I idly wondered
how I was listed on the inventory. One short, bad-tempered female Terran thoracic surgeon, maybe?
The guard always flashed a light in my face. That was my cue to say something, like: “Yeah, I’m
still alive” or “That you, room service?”
The ten-foot-tall, sextupedal lizards occasionally hissed something back that I couldn’t
understand- they’d taken my translation headgear along with my clothes-but it never sounded like Would
you care for tea, Dr. Torin?
“No thanks.” I was hanging on to my sense of humor. With a death grip. “But check back with
me in an hour.”
If the guard found me sleeping during these frequent inspections, I got tepid water tossed in my
face. That happened a lot since what I had roughly calculated to be the end of the second day. I caught
some in my mouth a few times. Gave me something to spit back at him.
The Hsktskt have zero sense of humor, of course. Whenever I made a direct hit, the guard gave
me a jolt through the detainment cuff on my left wrist. The last time he’d personally nailed me with one of
his thick, snakelike limbs. So far my nasty Terran habit had gotten me numerous assorted contusions, a
dislocated shoulder (which I managed to fix), and a fractured left wrist (which remained broken).
My first time being a slave. Obviously I needed some practice.
“Four maintain rank for each subHanar, and each descendent rank. Thus, there are eight Akade
ministers, sixty-four subAkade ministers, five hundred twelve OverLord commanders-”
“Four thousand ninety-six Lords; thirty-two thousand, seven hundred sixty-eight OverMasters;
two hundred sixty-two thousand, one hundred forty-four Masters; two million, ninety-seven thousand,
one hundred fifty-two OverSeers; sixteen million, seven hundred seventy-seven thousand, two hundred
sixteen Seers; one hundred thirty-four million, two hundred seventeen thousand, seven hundred
twenty-eight OverCenturons; one billion, seventy-three million, seven hundred forty-one thousand, eight
hundred twenty-four centurons; and eight billion, five hundred eighty-nine million, nine hundred thirty-four
thousand, five hundred ninety-two free citizens.” I yawned. “I can multiply, okay?”
On top of the injuries, I was exhausted. Starved. Dirty. About to go berserk from the
claustrophobia-inducing isolation. Funny, I’d always thought of myself as a loner, too. I tried not to
brood over it. Most of the time I failed.
Imagining what was happening to the Chakacat didn’t help. Had they put gentle Alunthri in one of
these cells? Were they beating and starving it as well? Then came the heat of a rage that no amount of
water or beatings could extinguish.
Reever did this.
Duncan Reever, who’d been the chief linguist at the colony on K-2, had done a lot to me.
Besides telepathically intruding on my brain and taking control of my body from time to time, he’d also
raped me, helped me cure a plague, followed me when I’d escaped the League, served with me on the
Jorenian star vessel Sunlace, become my confident, helped me solve a series of murders, and even saved
my life. If you overlooked the rape-which wasn’t exactly his fault-and the mind/body control thing,
Duncan had been a pretty decent friend. I’d confided in him. Trusted him. I’d even been stupid enough to
fall in love with him. My fingers curled around the metallic slave collar Duncan Reever had locked around
my neck. That’s how he felt about me.
“Congratulations, prisoner 1471428.” That was what the automated prisoner-orientation
program called me. “You have mastered the configurations of the Faction ranking hierarchy.”
“Discontinue program and go away.” My tongue had become a solid, immobile lump. Maybe I’d
try swallowing some of that water next time.
“Unable to heed verbal command.” The audio was piped in through the tiny ventilation duct
above my head. “Orientation is requisite for all Hsktskt Faction property.”
“Here’s what I think of your program.” I made a rather pointed gesture with my hand, yelped,
then cradled my throbbing wrist. “Ouch, damn it.”
“Do you wish to make a statement regarding your attack on OverMaster HalaVar?”
“No.” Seeing Duncan Reever in a Hsktskt uniform had ripped a shuttle-sized hole through my
heart. It had also completely ruined my attempt at homicide. “Want to give me another shot?”
“You attacked your assigned OverMaster.”
Cherijo. How could you?
What laughter I produced sounded awful-dehydration and lots of yelling had done a real job on
my larynx. “I’m not assigned to him. I’m his bondmate.” I thought about that for a second. “Was his
bondmate. I want a divorce.”
The drone didn’t respond to my need for an attorney. “You must obey the orders of OverMaster
HalaVar, and all free citizens of the Hsktskt Faction.”
“Really.” Another damn headache started pounding at my temples. I think it was just hearing that
name. HalaVar. “I don’t advise you to keep that circuit open.”
“Acknowledge these instructions.”
The pain behind my eyes expanded. I’d have cheerfully amputated one of my limbs for a
syrinpress of analgesics. “Check back with me when Hell freezes over.”
Or I did. They’d kept my cell temperature at about sixty degrees Fahrenheit. Too cool for
comfort, too warm to induce hypothermia. At least Alunthri had fur. My thin Terran skin was starting to
develop chilblains.
If Jenner had been there, he’d have kept me warm. I’d left my Tibetan temple cat back on Joren,
in the care of my adopted people. I was glad he was safe, but I still missed His Majesty terribly.
Someone had programmed the drone to be persistent. Probably Reever. “Acknowledge these
instructions.”
“Isn’t the penalty for failure to comply termination?” I could always hope.
“Acknowledge these instructions immediately.”
I lay back down. I might not know what was going to happen to me, but I’d rather fight than give
in. “I’d rather kiss your programmer.”
“Prisoner 1471428, acknowledge these instructions or you will be disciplined.”
“Maybe I wasn’t clear.” I put my good arm under my aching head, cushioning my skull against
the hard deck. “Go fuse yourself.”
The door panel slid open. Something sailed through the air and smacked into my bad shoulder
before falling to the deck. Translation headgear, I saw as I picked it up. The kind the Hsktskt made all
the League captives wear. I eyed the guard-guess Mr. Joviality wanted to have a meaningful chat this
time-then slipped it over my limp, tangled hair. It took awhile to fit the receiver to my right ear. Not easy
to do anything one-handed.
Infolded green epidermal scales gleamed over bulky muscle as the guard trained his rifle on me.
“Stand up.”
He couldn’t discipline me. My detainment cuff had shattered when he’d broken my wrist. No,
this beast looked hungry.
“What for?” I squinted as he directed an optic light in my eyes. “Got the nibbles? Think I’ll go
well with a nice red spicewine?”
Two of his sinuous limbs lashed restlessly at his sides. “Stand up and exit the cell.”
“Right.” I was in no hurry to become a canapé. “Make me.”
The guard enabled the sight lock and the weapon’s pulse chamber charged with an audible hum.
“Comply or I will shoot you.”
He wouldn’t really shoot me. “Be my guest, you oversized scaly skinned-”
He shot me.
A single energy pulse smashed into my sternum. Impact propelled me backward along the deck
until my spine slammed into the cell wall. My vision doubled, then darkened. Tremendous pain kept my
lungs from expanding.
Yep, I thought, this mouth of mine just might get me killed someday. Maybe today.
Just before I blacked out, the guard bent over me and grabbed me by the length of my long, dirty
hair. The mouthful of blood I spat hit him right between his frontal and parietal ridges.
My last thought was Bull’s-eye.
I woke up in Medical. Some hamster-faced nurse stood over me, taking my vitals with a scanner.
My tongue hurt-apparently I’d bitten it. A fiery sensation ate a continuous hole between my breasts.
The beast actually shot me.
I tested my limbs, and discovered I was still naked. Plasteel restraints immobilized my wrists and
ankles. Both my bruised arms had infusers stuck in them. I could feel the monitor hookups attached to
my scalp and under my breasts.
“Hey!” Flat on my back and helpless were not two of my favorite positions. “Unstrap me!”
The dark fur pelting the rodent nurse’s small face bristled as she bent over me. Hamsters didn’t
have long, honed incisors like the ones she sported. They gleamed between twin fans of whiskery
vibrissae like white blades. I heard a syrinpress clink against the slave collar around my throat.
“It takes to kill a Terran, do you know the quantity of benzodiazepine?” she asked me.
“Not much,” I said. Oh, terrific. She didn’t have a hamster’s personality, either. “Why? Skip that
class back at Medtech?”
Her blade-shaped teeth flashed as she eased the syrinpress away from my jugular. “What
constitutes a fatal dose, I know.”
“Good for you.” I was such a liar. “Any chance you’re going off duty soon?”
She straightened, then called out, “Regained consciousness, the Terran female has.”
All at once I became very popular. Three of the Perpetua’s staff physicians surrounded my
berth. Nurses hovered at their sides. Two Hsktskt centurons peered at me from behind them.
“Excuse me,” I said, and put my polite face on. “The Terran female would like to be released
now.” They ignored me. I endured a thorough examination, after which one of the nurses irrigated and
dressed the pulse burn on my sternum with antibacterial pads.
I yelped while she scrubbed at another laceration. “Hey! That hurts-take it easy, will you?”
She didn’t. The doctors did nothing to stop her, and discussed me as though I was comatose. A
second nurse strapped my wrist in a support band, while a third scanned my swollen shoulder. The trio
cleaned and sealed all my myriad lacerations, too. None of them made even a pretense of gentleness,
either. By the time they were through, I was seething. God help them if they ever worked for me.
“The Terran female would really, really like to be released now.”
“Leave us,” I heard TssVar say.
Those two words from the Hsktskt Commander effectively cleared the area. The towering
OverLord lumbered across the deck to stand by my berth, and began reading through my chart.
TssVar would have made one hell of a doctor. Faced with the OverLord’s massive physique and
nightmare visage, no patient in the universe would have ever given him lip.
I could appreciate those qualities. Everybody gave me lip.
Octagonal keratin scales bulged over wide cords of sinew and muscle as TssVar tossed the chart
aside with a grim hiss. His black tongue flickered out to taste my air as he personally examined me.
Hsktskt facial muscles didn’t lend themselves to much emotion, but even I could gauge the level of his
contempt.
“I have seen more attractive fodder, SsurreVa.”
SsurreVa was the Hsktskt name he’d given me. It translated literally to “thin-skinned.” Wonder
why. One of his clawed hands lifted the edge of the dressing on my chest. When he saw the wound, he
expressed even more disgust.
I wasn’t falling for any intimidation tactics-this whole mess was his fault. Instead I glanced down,
and made a tsking sound. “Beautiful work your guards do on unarmed prisoners.”
“You Terrans are far too flimsy.” He replaced the dressing. “We will find something else to use
on you besides pulse weapons.”
Something that didn’t damage the goods, I gathered. “That might be wise.” I wasn’t going to
offer actual suggestions as to what. Plus there was something I wanted to know. “How is the Chakacat,
Alunthri?”
His lower eyelids slid up, then down. “Alive.”
That word covered a lot of bleak territory. “Where is it?”
“In General Detainment.” He flashed some impressive enamel. “For now.”
Which I’d take to mean don’t press my luck. “When do I go back to my cell?”
TssVar draped a limb along the edge of my berth, and bent toward me to examine my
expression. “Have you not tired of it?”
“Oh, no. I love lying naked in a dark, cold cell with nothing to eat or drink for days.” I showed
him some of my teeth. “First vacation I’ve had in years.”
“Indeed.” Hsktskt understood sarcasm, but rarely reacted to it. “I think you wish to hide. You
did not anticipate HalaVar’s actions.”
Actually, I’d been stunned. During the attack, Reever had used my natural hesitation to disarm
me-he knew some bizarre tricks when it came to self-defense. I remembered how I’d huddled on the
deck, staring up at him. Betrayed by the one man I never would have suspected of turning on me.
You signaled the Hsktskts.
Yes. I signaled them.
That was when they’d brought Reever’s leverage in: Alunthri, collared and chained. That finished
any hope I had of having another go at the heartless bastard. A moment later, TssVar entered, sized up
the whole sad, horrifying tableau, and had me hauled off to solitary detainment.
Reever was probably still congratulating himself at this very moment, I thought, as he enjoyed the
Hsktskt hospitality suite. I had been caged like an animal. Thank God, Alunthri was in with the other
League prisoners.
Or maybe I shouldn’t feel so happy about that. What if the other captives found out the
Chakacat was my friend? Me, who had betrayed them.
I wasn’t going to brood over it. TssVar wanted to keep me alive, that was pretty obvious-the
Hsktskt weren’t known for their patience. But my chances of freeing Alunthri and the two of us escaping
were slim to none.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.
“We spoke of this before,” TssVar said. “Warm-bloods often betray each other.”
“And I said I should learn to be like you, OverLord, and trust in no one.” I tested the plasteel
restraints, which felt far too tight, effectively cutting off circulation to my hands and feet. Blasted nurses.
“Take me back to my cell.” Or anywhere these League staffers couldn’t get at me.
“When you have recovered, you may ask HalaVar,” TssVar said. “You are his property.”
My brows rose. “I don’t think so.”
One claw snapped a new detainment cuff on my uninjured wrist. Not gently, either. “You belong
to OverMaster HalaVar.” His lipless mouth stretched in a gruesome imitation of a smile. “Unless he
decides to sell you on Catopsa.”
My regenerative physiology once again had me mostly healed within a few days. Convenient,
since the Medical staffers got on my nerves in as many hours.
During my recovery, I had plenty of time on my hands to observe how the League ran a medical
department. Compared to the Jorenians, on whose star vessel I’d spent the last year, these staffers were
undisciplined, unsupervised, and unbelievably inefficient.
At first I resisted the urge to correct one of the staff for neglecting proper procedure. Eventually I
gave up and simply yelled.
“Nurse! Get a syrinpress. That man in berth nine should have had his meds two hours ago!
“Does the patient with the limb injury have to develop gangrene before you change her damn
dressing?
“When does the primary physician intent to perform rounds? After all these people slide into
comas?”
“Calm yourself, SsurreVa.” A reptilian voice came over my headgear after one of my tirades.
“You are provoked too easily.”
I clapped my hands over the receiver against my ear and sat straight up in my berth. TssVar.
“You’re monitoring me?”
“We monitor all slaves.”
Nice to know that now.
I decided to stop yelling directly at the staffers. It wasn’t their fault no one cared enough to
supervise them properly. No, I’d vent my spleen to the primary medical officer, someone named Malgat,
as soon as he made rounds.
That took two full rotations.
“Where have you been?” I started in on the short, hairless humanoid when at last he appeared by
my berth. “These people need some management, pronto, because…” I stared down at the syring press
in Dr. Malgat’s two-fingered hand. “What is that?”
He prepared it for infusion. “Joseph Grey Veil left instructions to administer this test compound,
and several others.”
“You are not experimenting on me!”
Malgat gave me a small, sympathetic smile.
Lazy nurses had their uses. No one had bothered to check on me or my restraints. It had taken
hours, but I’d managed to work my good hand free.
As soon as Malgat leaned over me, I knocked the syrinpress away. It went flying across the
ward, dropped, and slid beneath an exam table.
“No more test compounds.” Twenty-seven years of that waste back on Terra had been more
than enough for me.
Malgat appeared confounded. I guess his other lab rats had never tried to bite his clammy little
hand before. “Doctor!”
“Forget it.” Before the primary recovered from his shock, I loosened the other three straps and
yanked the monitors off my chest and head.
“No!” The little creep tried to hold me down. “Nurse! Assist me!” To me, he said, “Remain
where you are!”
“In your dreams, pal.” I bashed the bonesetter around my wrist into his thick neck, sending him
reeling, then I rolled off the berth. Infusers ripped from my flesh. Blood trickled down my limbs. “Back
off.” “Return to your berth,” he said, holding a palm against his bruised flesh as he came after me.
“You are not well.”
I was just dandy. Sore, and naked, but not defenseless. I skirted the berth. Released the clamps
on the bonesetter and shook it off. Picked up my chart and eyed his skull. Big, soft veins pulsed beneath
his brown-spotted derma.
“I bet your species has no cranial bone,” I said.
He stopped. “What?”
“I’d hate to rupture your brain tissue with this.” I held up the chart. “Keep coming and I will.”
The nurse who’d threatened me the first day came up behind Dr. Malgat. She had a syrinpress in
her hand and a lovely smirk puffing out her cheek pouches. This was just the opportunity she’d been
looking for. I could hear her now, explaining the tragedy. I had been struggling, trying to escape. She
hadn’t meant to administer an overdose, but what a shame, her finger had slipped on the calibrator.
“This patient, Doctor, shall I sedate?” she asked Malgat.
Meaning, I’d better get moving. A chart wouldn’t dent the thick skull under all that fur.
I looked around. Grabbed a dermal probe off an instrument tray to my left. Held it out like a
bladed weapon.
“Try it, you shrew,” I said, “and I’ll carve out your heart.”
The nurse’s broad tail slapped the deck, while she made a strange sputtering sound.
“She will do what she says.”
I went still at the sound of the cold, dispassionate voice. Malgat sighed with relief. The shrew
bristled, furious. A tall, light-haired man stepped around both of them.
He was a good-looking Terran male, if you overlooked the empty expression and bleak blue
eyes. He moved with grace and economy for a man his size. The sinewy build and natural athletic
strength helped. In fact, the only outer flaws he possessed were the thick webs of scars on the backs of
both hands-for the time being. I planned to add more in other places.
“Look who’s here. My husband.” I smiled. The brewing hostility inside me spewed out in a
geyser of scalding rage. “Hello, Reever, you corrupt, evil, traitorous, lying ass-
“Enough, Cherijo.” He took a step forward. Held out his hand. “Give me the probe.”
“You mean this?” I turned the instrument in my hand so the sharp end jutted out from my fist.
“Specify the artery.”
He made a brief survey of my body. Not even a spark of interest glimmered in his chilly gaze.
Ah, gee, didn’t he want me anymore? Apparently not. Guess I was supposed to be crushed.
“If you attempt to harm me again, TssVar will subject you to much more than solitary
detainment,” he said.
Treacherous, unfeeling, blunt as always. Same old Reever. “I’m going to do more than attempt,
pal.” I jabbed the probe toward him. “I don’t care what happens to me.”
“You forget that Alunthri can be made to suffer as well.”
That did it. I lunged.
A heartbeat later, he countered my attack easily, pushing me back and pinning me to the wall
panel beside the berth.
This was worse than his threats. “Get off me, damn it!”
I fought, but he was bigger, stronger, and in much better condition. He pegged my wrists above
my head with one of his strong, scarred hands and relieved me of the probe with the other. I jerked my
knee up, but one long thigh blocked me just short of my mark. Too bad. I would have enjoyed the
thought of him speaking with a squeak for a few days.
“Stop.” He used his body weight to hold me in place. “Don’t fight me.”
He was touching me, and I’d sworn I’d never let him do that again. “I’ll kill you!” I could feel his
heart beating rapidly against my bare breast, and twisted. “Get off!”
“When you give me your word you won’t attack anyone.”
I’d tell him I’d mate with Malgat, just to get him away from me. “Fine.” I took a deep breath, let
it out. “I promise not to attack anyone.”
He took the precaution of stepping out of knee-jerk range before he let my wrists go. Like most
males, he was protective of his genitals. Smart move. One of my immediate goals was to kick his up into
his esophagus.
He gave me the once-over again. “I will get you a tunic.”
“Don’t bother.” I kept my eyes on him as I grabbed a berth sheet and quickly wound it around
my body. He watched my hands knot the linen over my breasts. My body had never impressed him, so
why was he suddenly so interested in covering it up?
I pushed past him. Shoved the venomous nurse out of my way. Headed for the Medical entrance
panel. One of the Hsktskt glared at me, then snarled something in Reever’s direction. My headgear was
askew, so I didn’t pick that up.
“Cherijo.”
I paused, but didn’t turn around. “What?”
“Report to my quarters.”
“Right.” When I sprouted wings and could fly there.
I kept going. Another Hsktskt guard stepped out to block my path. A huge male, almost as big
as TssVar, but broader and with a noticeable slope to his brow. He wore the rank of a squad
commander, or OverCenturon.
“Slaves do not roam the ship unsupervised.”
This was getting old. “Call off the guard dog, you jerk.”
“Address the OverMaster with his proper title,” FlatHead said, baring rows of discolored
incisors. He smelled as good as his teeth looked.
“Sure.” Now the damn lizards were correcting me. “Call off the guard dog, OverMaster
HalaVar, you jerk.”
FlatHead activated his weapon and targeted my face.
“She is part of the medical staff. Let her pass.”
Hsktskt enamel crunched as he ground his teeth together, but the OverCenturon stepped aside.
I stalked out. In the corridor, I automatically hitched up the sheet and realized absently that I was
barefoot. Good thing the deck was insulated. Wouldn’t want to catch a chill before the Hsktskt scientists
on Catopsa got a chance to dissect me. Might mess up their tests.
After locating the nearest glidelift, I stepped in and keyed the console for my own quarters on
level six. “At last.”
Reever got in the lift before the doors closed. He reprogrammed the lift to go to level nine. “I will
accompany you.”
“Your funeral.” I didn’t look at him, either. The sight of him in a modified Hsktskt military uniform
still made my blood boil. “You’ve given the med staffers free access to the ship?”
“Within reason. OverLord TssVar is aware of your professional oath to do no harm.”
That last part sounded like a warning. He didn’t realize it but he’d just given me a sizeable
weapon. A moment of silence passed. I amused myself by thinking of creative amputations I could
perform on Reever. Minus anesthetic.
He ruined my fantasies by saying, “The Hsktskt guard you offended-stay away from him.”
“I offended who? Mr. Manners?” I heaved a counterfeit sigh. “Here I thought I’d made a new
friend.” “His name is GothVar.” He keyed something in on the wrist unit all the Hsktskt wore. Probably a
note to have me clapped in manacles later. “He has long disliked slaves, particularly Terrans.”
“Considering who he has to work with?” I lifted a hand to cover my mouth. Rage was fun, but
tiring. “Can’t say I blame him.”
“I want you to listen to me.”
“Keep talking. I always yawn like this when I’m riveted.”
It took a few seconds before the lift slowed and came to a halt at level nine. I walked out and
down the corridor, with Reever trailing me.
“Why am I here?” I said before I crossed the threshold of his quarters.
Reever pushed me through, then closed the door panel, but didn’t secure it. Foolish man.
“Continuation of prisoner orientation.”
Forget that. “Send me back to my cell.” When he didn’t, I halted in the center of the mostly
empty room. “Look, you’ve given me the speech. Seen me naked. Thrown me in the brig. What’s left?”
“There is something I have to give you.” He pointed to a circular depression in the deck. “First I
must complete your orientation. Stand on the scan pad.”
Another scan. They’d already done a million of them. Might as well get it over with, I thought,
and stepped into the circle.
Reever crossed to the room console and keyed in a rapid sequence code. “Initiate identification
scan.” A blinding white light scanned me from crown to soles while a drone voice began to recite the
facts. “Life-form identification: Torin, Cherijo. Terran female. Physician. Thoracic Surgeon. Height: 4
feet, 11 inches. Weight: 82 pounds. Hair: Black with silver streak above right temple. Eyes: Blue. Derma:
Terran Caucasian.”
“You forgot the freckle behind my right ear,” I said.
That confused the drone. “There is no indication of abnormal pigmentation in that area-”
Reever made an impatient sound. “Disregard subject input. Results of most recent physical
evaluation.”
“P.E. performed by Malgat, Evo. Includes inspection, palpation, percussion, and auscultation of
body and organs. General results reflect a well-developed female.”
Evo had barely glanced at me, much less performed a full eval. “There was no P.E. performed.
Your primary probably had to guess at my gender.”
Reever didn’t react to that. “Proceed.”
“Neurological Assessment: Awake, alert, oriented to environment-”
“Don’t start talking neuroanatomy to him,” I said to the console. “He’ll get aroused.”
The program ignored me, too. After finishing the neuro stats, it started on the cardiovascular. “BP
and heart rate consistent with intense athletic conditioning-”
“An athlete?” I chuckled. “Hardly. Wait, does whump-ball count?”
It droned on and on. “Respiratory Assessment: Respiration quiet and regular-”
“I only spit when I think of you, Reever,” I said.
The automated program noted during the integumentary stats that my derma met genetic norms,
but that I had no PIC.
I frowned. “What’s this pee-eye-sea?”
Reever didn’t answer me. During the recitation of my musculoskeletal stats, the drone stated
there was little evidence of any former injuries.
I flexed my stiff wrist. “I’m still thinking about suing.”
A white spot beam abruptly switched on and focused on my wedding band. “Unidentified
metallic ring encircling third finger of left hand, as indicated.”
I’d forgotten about that. I pulled off the ring Reever had given me back on Joren, and tossed it at
the console as hard as I could. It bounced off and rolled beneath the unit. “Not anymore.”
The console recited the sensory stats, noting some evidence of hypersensitivity to light, consistent
with my recent detainment.
“Is it usually this obtuse?” I asked. “Or is today a special occasion?”
The drone only offered my hematological stats. At length.
I folded my arms. “Did you check between my toes, too?”
“Microbiological assessment detected no dangerous microorganisms. Augmented antibodies
detected. Unclassified genetic material detected. Origin of detected irregularities unknown.“
What the hell had Joseph been pumping into me all those years? “I guess you did.”
“Conclusion: this is a twenty-nine-year-old woman in excellent health.”
“Bravo.” I clapped twice, slow and loud. “Took you long enough.”
“Hematology analysis, categorical results: CBC- 6.45; RBC-5.0; Hemoglobin-15.95;
Hematocrit- 45.7; MCV-”
“Discontinue individual test results,” Reever said, and the drone shut up. “Prepare the laser
application.”
“Application of what?”
He moved away from the console and toward me. “All prisoners must maintain a PIC-physical
identification code.” I jumped off the pad. “Resume your position, Cherijo.”
He wanted to brand me. Like some agri-pharm range animal. “Not in this lifetime, pal.”
Reever halted. “Permanent individual identification sequences-”
I’d almost made it to the door panel when he caught me. A hard arm snaked around my waist.
The other blocked my hand just before I raked my fingernails into his face. Reever carried me back to
the circle, but it took some effort. I fought him with every ounce of strength I had.
“No!” I gasped as two metallic columns rose out of the deck. Reever positioned me between
them, let go, then stepped away. Before I could move, two viselike extensions snaked cold metal clamps
around my arms and pelvis. One clamp undulated outward, jerking my right arm up and away from my
body. This wasn’t going to happen. “Don’t you dare brand me with some slaver code, you pig!”
Reever returned to the console. “Stop struggling,” he said. “You will harm yourself.”
“Oh, and you won’t?”
Above me, a laser rig descended from a slot in the upper deck. I heard the power supply hum as
the unit charged. My eyes went wide.
He was actually going to burn me with that thing. “Reever!”
Reever approached me, a syrinpress in his fist. I fought the steel embrace even harder. “This will
prevent you from feeling any pain.”
Pain. Good suggestion. I waited until he got close enough, then whipped my head forward and
smashed it into his face as hard as I could. The instrument flew from his hand and clattered to the deck.
The impact sent Reever staggering back a few steps.
I’ll have a headache, too, once these spots stopped dancing in front of my eyes, I thought. A tight
knot of pain began to swell just above my right brow. Well, I’d asked for it, might as well enjoy it.
I did, for about ten seconds, until the laser activated.
Searing heat rolled over my forearm. I swore at the top of my lungs and jerked at my arm, but
the detainment device held. Thus immobilized, I had to watch as the laser carved a line of short, curving
furrows from my wrist to my elbow. With each new mark, new pain flashed up my arm. The cauterized
vapors collected in my nose, until I had to stop yelling and choke back my own bile.
Smoke. Flames. Children crying. I couldn’t see where they were. Tonetka… the children…
walls of fire between us… “Go back!”
It didn’t take very long. Only forever. By the time the laser shut down, the only things keeping my
shuddering body upright were the clamps.
The memories of what had happened on the Sunlace danced inside my eyelids.
“Why did you do that?” Reever had gotten to his feet, and now his hands were on my face, tilting
it up. I jerked my head away and looked down. Third-degree burns, nearly six inches long and four
inches wide, formed an intricate series of symbols in my flesh.
“Why, Cherijo?”
I gazed up at him, saw the icy rage with something like relief. He still cared. I could use that.
“Eat… waste… and… d-”
I passed out before I could finish expressing my heartfelt wishes.
CHAPTER TWO
What Goes Around
I groaned, lifted my head, and squinted through decidedly gritty eyes. Too dark to tell where I
was. But I could smell a hint of cinnamon and rose hips, and felt the familiar texture of Jorenian linens.
Herbal tea stores and my own bed. The old quarters I’d been assigned on level six. As close to
heaven as I was going to get on the Perpetua.
“Bad dream.” All that shrieking had brought back my sore throat. “Give me some lights.”
The console didn’t respond to my hoarse command. I struggled off the sleeping platform and
stumbled through the dark to manually activate the controls. I felt sluggish and weak-Reever must have
drugged me.
Reever did things like that.
I reached for the panel and gasped. From my right hand up, everything hurt. When I got the lights
on, I saw the burn dressing encasing my forearm.
“It really happened.”
I had no idea why that shocked me, but it did. He hurt me. He really, deliberately hurt me.
Why? When would his treachery stop being a surprise and start being my reality?
That pesky inner voice of mine piped up at once. Never.
Suppuration had seeped through the antibacterial gel, making stains on the outer dressing. I’d
unwrap it and have a look later, when I could find my med kit. A blue garment covered the rest of me. A
basically transparent, voluminous robe, with only a few strategically placed opaque panels to preserve my
modesty.
Reever’s idea of sleepwear? Or visual titillation?
“You’re feeling better.”
I whipped around to find the corrupt creep sitting in one of my chairs. He looked composed and
tidy, if you ignored the painful-looking bruise across his left cheekbone.
“Why?” I held out my unmarked arm. “Want to burn the other one now, you sick bastard?”
“All designated properties are given PICs.” He rose to his feet. “There are no exceptions.”
“Did you brand Alunthri?” It didn’t bother me that Reever had used a laser on me. I was a big
girl, I could handle that. But Alunthri- “Did you?”
Reever nodded once.
My jaw locked. “I’m going to kill you for that.”
“No, you won’t.”
He had little idea what I was capable of. I had nothing else to lose. Calmly I watched as he
moved to stand before me. Let him think I was subdued, beaten. The moron. “So I’m your designated…
what? Slave-girl?”
He inclined his head. The smug gesture cost him. He didn’t have quite enough time to avoid my
fist when it connected with his diaphragm, or the follow-through punch I landed against the unbruised
摘要：

ForHollyLisle,whoneverceasestoamazeme-thanksforhelpingmehandlemyownsympathyforthedevil.ACKNOWLEDGMENTSI’dliketothankGerryCoughlin,authorofEverydayEnglishandSlanginIreland,whoseonlinedictionaryofthesameatprovidedaninvaluablelinguisticresourceforthisnovel.(AndifImadeahashofit,Gerry,it’smyfault,notyour...

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