She whispered, “You might as well kill me too. I’m no good to you.”
Major Orlov barked harsh laughter. “Kill you? I wouldn’t dream of such a thing.” She indicated the room. “I know several of the steps for prepping the station for a geyser, but not all of them. No. You will help me destroy Sydney.”
The small technician’s dread was palpable as color drained from her face. So very slowly, she shook her head.
“Are you brave, my dear?”
“No. But I cannot do as you ask.”
“Conditioning?”
“You are correct.”
“Don’t you know that Political Harmony Corps can break conditioning?”
“I must inform you that you cannot break Deep-Core’s.”
“Oh yes, most certainly we can break Deep-Core’s.” Major Orlov snapped her fingers.
A pot-bellied PHC officer, with thinning hair and droopy eyes, opened a black case. He had pudgy little hands with dirt under the fingernails. No laser pack was slung on his back. No pistol was cradled at his side. He was known simply as ‘the Doctor.’ He now took out a pneumospray hypo.
Ah Chen’s fawn eyes grew wide with fright.
The Doctor explained. “Oh, it isn’t painful, I assure you. This is simply a hyperaesthesic.”
The small technician appeared bewildered.
“It heightens your senses,” he said, as he pressed the hypo to her arm, letting it hiss.
She jerked her arm back, rubbing it.
“No, I advise against that,” said the Doctor.
Her hand shot off her arm as pain creased her features.
“As I said, a fast-acting hyperaesthesic. Your heart rate and breathing will increase, and your senses will become many times more sensitive. For instance, the light in this room will soon hurt your eyes. The clothes you wear will begin to chafe unbearably. Certain odors you’ve never noticed will now become most pronounced. It’s possible that what you now consider an awful stench will make you vomit. In the quantity you’ve been given—a large dosage, believe me—these new sensations will become….” He exposed small teeth in a rather nasty smile, “…decidedly uncomfortable.”
Major Orlov laughed. “You’ll never have felt pain like this.”
Already the tiny technician twitched this way and that. But that only increased the obvious discomfort she felt from her clothes.
“Let me help you,” said Major Orlov. She took hold of Ah Chen’s garment and ripped off the top half, exposing the petite Chinese technician from the waist up. “Not too well endowed, are you?”
The little technician covered herself with her hands.
The major took each tiny wrist and swung the arms behind Ah Chen’s back, snapping handcuffs onto her. The system specialist painfully sucked in her breath.
“It hurts?” asked the Doctor.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Ah Chen.
The Doctor reached into his black bang, pulling out a wand. “The nerve lash,” he said professionally. “Notice, I position the switch at one, the lowest setting.” The wand purred evilly. “I then apply the tip to your belly.”
Ah Chen screamed, her face twisting hideously.
The Doctor popped a rubber ball into her mouth. The technician’s eyes widened in shock. “You’ll become quite a bit louder,” the Doctor told her. “We don’t care to wear ear plugs, so you must accommodate us.”
Major Orlov giggled wickedly.
“Examine your belly,” the Doctor said, taking away the nerve lash.
Ah Chen did. There was no mark.
“This is a marvelous instrument,” the Doctor said. “Now notice, I set it to level two. The pain will now increase.” He touched it to her left breast.
Ah Chen collapsed into a thrashing heap onto the floor.
Major Orlov cracked her knuckles in anticipation.
20.
Marten stumbled into the reactor room. A small, nude Chinese woman lay in a sweaty heap on the floor. A pot-bellied red-suit straightened, clutching a nerve lash in his dirty hands. Major Orlov sat back in a chair. Her big boots were propped up on a com-board. With obvious relish, she watched the Chinese woman.
Marten took in the scene at a glance. More torture, more PHC brutality. Something snapped in him. This was his last chance anyway. He kept stumbling and allowed himself to trip over his own feet. He fell to the floor, and while lying on his stomach, he reached to his boot and drew the vibroknife. His thumb settled onto the on/off switch.
“Marten Kluge?” the major asked, as if heaven had sent her the gift of a lifetime.
“Can you believe it?” asked Drang.
“Where did you find him?”
“In the halls.”
“Amazing. No, shocking.” Major Orlov chuckled. “This… This is simply wonderful. Marten! Marten, dear, did you miss mommy?”
“I thought you’d want to see him again,” said Drang.
“Doctor,” said Orlov, “do you have any more hyperaesthesic left?”
“Certainly.”
“Doesn’t the system specialist need a rest?” suggested the major.
“Your sense of timing is impeccable, as always,” the Doctor said. “I was just about to suggest a cooling off period. She’s reached the tertiary point, in any case.”
“Gentlemen,” said Major Orlov, “I pronounce our deeds approved. For if there is any Higher Form after death—”
“You can’t really believe that?” Drang asked.
“Don’t interrupt me.” Major Orlov cleared her throat. “As I was saying, if there is any Higher Form after death, He can only be showing us His approval by gifting me with these two. Oh yes, Marten and a young pretty. This is splendid!”
“If I’m to inject him I want him standing,” said the Doctor.
“Marten. Oh, Marten,” called Major Orlov.
Marten lay on his belly, waiting, willing them closer.
“What’s wrong with him?” asked the major.
“Perhaps he’s finally succumbed to deep pressure,” the Doctor said.
“Well, get him up!” snapped Major Orlov.
Drang approached Marten.
“Be careful,” said the major.
Drang grabbed Marten by the shoulder, the pistol digging into his back. “On your feet, slum-dog.”
Marten groaned, but he allowed himself to be pulled up. Then he twisted around, flicked the knife on and drove the vibroblade into Drang’s belly. The blade dug in with ease, singing all the way. Marten sidestepped and jerked the blade out sideways, slicing the laser coil just as Drang clicked the trigger. Substance spilled from the coil, burning Drang, who howled. Marten chopped at the man’s head. He had no idea of the blade’s power. It sawed through part of the skull, spraying brain and gore. The corpse pitched forward.
Ah Chen screamed.
Marten turned. The Doctor thrust at him with the nerve lash. Marten parried, cutting the lash in two. With a croak of dismay, the Doctor drew back his ruined torture device. Marten snarled, hewing at the Doctor’s chest. The knife whined in high glee, punching into the chest. Blood sprayed and drenched Marten. The vibroblade was a messy weapon.
Major Orlov had leaped to her feet and clawed at her holster.
The small Chinese technician, still lying on the floor, used her tiny foot to kick the major’s boot at the ankle. The major cried out and momentarily lost her balance. She both drew her pistol and let go at the same moment. The pistol clattered to the floor. Marten whooped savagely, attacked and thrust. Major Orlov, for all her bulk and unbalance, twisted and dodged the singing, bloody blade. She then pivoted on her heel and swung a ham-like fist. Marten heard a rib crack as the air whooshed out of him. The major’s touch hurt horribly. She followed with another smashing blow. It rocked him backward and stole his breath. She was incredibly strong, with more than twice his mass.
“Little man!” she snarled.
Marten backpedaled to give himself time, and almost slipped on all the blood and gore.
Orlov checked herself, then turned and lunged for her gun.
Wildly, Marten threw the vibroblade. Orlov dodged. It hit a panel, singing loudly as it buried itself into it. Marten followed. Major Orlov laughed and crashed upon him like an auto-sweeper. They wrestled on the floor. The slick of blood made it hard for either of them to get a good hold. Orlov had size, strength and weight. Marten was faster. She tried to twist his head around, but her hands keep slipping off. He dug his fingers into her nose. She moaned, and bit his wrist. He jabbed with his other hand, using his thumb like a pick. Bone, bone, he jabbed deeply into an eye, digging until Major Orlov shrieked, using her hands and feet to hurl him away. He landed heavily and rose off the floor. So did she, with ichor dripping from her ruined left eye.