Silent Songs by A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley Page A
Authors: A. C. Crispin, Kathleen O'Malley
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Understand?"
Szu-yi felt the shreds of her confidence dribble away. "That's. .. immoral.. .
illegal.... I won't help you!"
"You will," the leader sang succinctly. "Tato, begin the study. We have wasted too much time already."
"You don't need to use her," Szu-yi explained urgently. "We have computer models, tissue samples, even nonsentient genetic reconstructions. They're safer, more reliable.. .."
"We wil use the prime subject," Dacris insisted.
"She's an old woman!" Szu-yi blurted. "She can't take it! Use me instead, I'm much younger, I could tolerate . . ."
"We are aware of this one's age," the leader sang. "We are also aware that by your own standards she is in excellent health. We will take precautions, but she is the subject. We will use you after the pilot studies are completed."
"I won't help you!" Szu-yi screamed in frustration. Suddenly the leader stared past her and Szu-yi collapsed, struck down by an enormous blow. She writhed as pain engulfed her.
61
As the sensation gradually dimmed, Dacris' song picked up in intensity and even the translation conveyed his heightened emotion. "Understand this.
Centuries before we learned to refine drugs to ensure obedience, we knew the mind's tolerances and the body's limitations. This was the first information we took from your medical library. Drugs are more efficient, but we have other, older methods. Touch her again."
Pain seared through her, and Szu-yi arched in agony. She tried to crawl away, even as she heard him sing the tone she quickly learned meant
"Again. Again. Again . . ." over and over.
The next time it stopped, she curled into a fetal position and wept unashamed. A moist hand tangled in her hair and jerked her head up. Dacris was inches from her face, pulling her hair with his own hand. "We are the Chosen. You are the Conquered. You belong to us, now, and for the rest of your life. You will work, live, and procreate for our benefit alone. Your aged and your young will die to feed us. Accept it and survive."
Szu-yi's eyes roved the room, silently pleading for help, but no one moved.
"Explain this to your people as we collect them," Dacris sang. "Only your eloquence can spare them this lesson. Learn it for them. Persuade them."
He released her hair and her head thudded against the deck plates.
With a sickening terror, she realized it was about to start again and tried to scrabble out of reach. It hit her harder this time and she slammed against the floor as her limbs gave out. Finally, the only thing in her universe was an all-encompassing agony and the futility of her echoing screams.
Eventually, it stopped. There was blood in her mouth, and her tongue was swollen and sore. She focused on a small technician with shockingly bright red legs and a green torso who crouched behind her, holding an innocent-looking rod about two decimeters long. Had that small thing . . . ?
The technician watched Tato and Dacris argue. Dimly, Szuyi understood that the physician had ended the punishment against Dacris' wishes. The sadistic bastard was enjoying himself so much he might've killed her.
When the argument ended, Dacris approached her, his colors burning her eyes. She flung herself away from him, but was grabbed by technicians.
Someone collected the tears falling down her face as another tech reached into her mouth, sampling the blood and saliva welling there. Dacris loomed closer, and Szuyi recoiled into the techs' embrace.
62
"We are the Chosen," he sang. "You are not. Do you understand?"
Her mouth opened but only a breathless gasp emerged.
"REPEAT IT!" he boomed in her face, the tinny sound of the translator making a mockery of his powerful voice.
"You . .. you are the Chosen .. ." she whispered. "I am not. .. ."
"Good," he purred, his colors dimming. "We understand each other. Begin the study." He turned to the physician. "You worry needlessly, Tato. She's fine, but keep the rod near. The lesson is new. She may forget."
Dacris stood where he could
Szu-yi felt the shreds of her confidence dribble away. "That's. .. immoral.. .
illegal.... I won't help you!"
"You will," the leader sang succinctly. "Tato, begin the study. We have wasted too much time already."
"You don't need to use her," Szu-yi explained urgently. "We have computer models, tissue samples, even nonsentient genetic reconstructions. They're safer, more reliable.. .."
"We wil use the prime subject," Dacris insisted.
"She's an old woman!" Szu-yi blurted. "She can't take it! Use me instead, I'm much younger, I could tolerate . . ."
"We are aware of this one's age," the leader sang. "We are also aware that by your own standards she is in excellent health. We will take precautions, but she is the subject. We will use you after the pilot studies are completed."
"I won't help you!" Szu-yi screamed in frustration. Suddenly the leader stared past her and Szu-yi collapsed, struck down by an enormous blow. She writhed as pain engulfed her.
61
As the sensation gradually dimmed, Dacris' song picked up in intensity and even the translation conveyed his heightened emotion. "Understand this.
Centuries before we learned to refine drugs to ensure obedience, we knew the mind's tolerances and the body's limitations. This was the first information we took from your medical library. Drugs are more efficient, but we have other, older methods. Touch her again."
Pain seared through her, and Szu-yi arched in agony. She tried to crawl away, even as she heard him sing the tone she quickly learned meant
"Again. Again. Again . . ." over and over.
The next time it stopped, she curled into a fetal position and wept unashamed. A moist hand tangled in her hair and jerked her head up. Dacris was inches from her face, pulling her hair with his own hand. "We are the Chosen. You are the Conquered. You belong to us, now, and for the rest of your life. You will work, live, and procreate for our benefit alone. Your aged and your young will die to feed us. Accept it and survive."
Szu-yi's eyes roved the room, silently pleading for help, but no one moved.
"Explain this to your people as we collect them," Dacris sang. "Only your eloquence can spare them this lesson. Learn it for them. Persuade them."
He released her hair and her head thudded against the deck plates.
With a sickening terror, she realized it was about to start again and tried to scrabble out of reach. It hit her harder this time and she slammed against the floor as her limbs gave out. Finally, the only thing in her universe was an all-encompassing agony and the futility of her echoing screams.
Eventually, it stopped. There was blood in her mouth, and her tongue was swollen and sore. She focused on a small technician with shockingly bright red legs and a green torso who crouched behind her, holding an innocent-looking rod about two decimeters long. Had that small thing . . . ?
The technician watched Tato and Dacris argue. Dimly, Szuyi understood that the physician had ended the punishment against Dacris' wishes. The sadistic bastard was enjoying himself so much he might've killed her.
When the argument ended, Dacris approached her, his colors burning her eyes. She flung herself away from him, but was grabbed by technicians.
Someone collected the tears falling down her face as another tech reached into her mouth, sampling the blood and saliva welling there. Dacris loomed closer, and Szuyi recoiled into the techs' embrace.
62
"We are the Chosen," he sang. "You are not. Do you understand?"
Her mouth opened but only a breathless gasp emerged.
"REPEAT IT!" he boomed in her face, the tinny sound of the translator making a mockery of his powerful voice.
"You . .. you are the Chosen .. ." she whispered. "I am not. .. ."
"Good," he purred, his colors dimming. "We understand each other. Begin the study." He turned to the physician. "You worry needlessly, Tato. She's fine, but keep the rod near. The lesson is new. She may forget."
Dacris stood where he could
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