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The
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It
was quiet in the corridor outside Secured Medical, so Stildyne heard
Koscuisko’s approach before the party cleared the corridor’s turning.
Koscuisko and two Security: that would logically be Lek Kerenko
and Pyotr Micmac. Koscuisko would not be expecting any company.
Stildyne
bowed to his approaching officer, conscious of the Lieutenant waiting
beside him making her salute as well. Koscuisko gave her the nod
in return but fixed his attention on Stildyne.
"What
is the meaning of this, Chief?"
Koscuisko
had to look up at him; but the challenge in the officer’s pale gray
eyes was untainted by any confusion over relative size as a measure
of personal dominance or relative rank. Koscuisko was not tall.
But Koscuisko was three times an autocrat, once in Medical, twice
in Secured Medical, and three times in his birth and breeding.
Stildyne
was just a Chief Warrant Officer in Security, a mongrel from nowhere
with nowhere to go when his tour of service was up. Sceppan
would be a distraction, but Stildyne knew that it wouldn’t be half
the challenge that keeping after Andrej Koscuisko had been. Because
there was no such thing.
"First
Officer presents his respects, your Excellency." Now Koscuisko
was to go home. Stildyne could hardly imagine what it might be like
to have a home to go to. "Respectfully endorsing Fleet Lieutenant
ap Rhiannon’s request for a brief orientation in Secured Medical
for educational purposes. Sir." TOP
An
orientation. Stildyne could almost hear the phrase repeated in Koscuisko’s
clear tenor, suspicion dripping off every syllable. Koscuisko turned
his head to confront the Lieutenant rather than mock her, however.
They were much more of a size than he was. Koscuisko even had the
advantage of height over the Lieutenant, and that was unusual, Koscuisko
being somewhat to the short side of the Jurisdiction standard.
"What
could possibly be of interest in a torture-room, Lieutenant? Tours
are not usually on the agenda."
Koscuisko
made the Lieutenant uncomfortable. Stildyne could sympathize. The
instability in Koscuisko’s psychological makeup that made him so
effective a torturer communicated itself to other sentient souls
as something to fear, whether or not they were in any danger of
coming under Koscuisko’s hand. Koscuisko’s own Security were afraid
of him; and they had more reason to know than anybody how desperately
Koscuisko was determined not to hurt them.
"I’ve
never been posted to a rated warship, sir. And I was taught to be
sure I knew what I was asking when I issued an order. I thought
it was a good opportunity, your Excellency."
Something
in what she said or how she said it caught Koscuisko’s fancy; Stildyne
knew it from the sudden gesture Koscuisko made, cocking his head
to one side and looking sidewise at her.
"H’mm.
I cannot but endorse the instinct on principle. Come in, then, Lieutenant,
you shall have hands-on experience here and now, and Mister Micmac
shall show you how I wish the prisoner prepared for further Inquiry."
She
looked a little startled at this. Stildyne was a little startled
himself: but Koscuisko took the Lieutenant by the elbow and walked
her to the cell-door, talking as he went.. TOP
"To
give the order is as much as to do the deed, after all, Lieutenant.
So you may watch, but you shall also work. Have you in torture-cell
before ever been?"
Koscuisko
keyed the admit, and the door opened along its diagonal. The Lieutenant
shook her head. "There were confinement cells at creche, sir,
but no such function on site. No."
"All
to the good. It will all be new and interesting."
Something
happened to Koscuisko when he went into a torture-cell, as the struggle
in his soul between horror and hunger began to tip to the side of
passion rather than revulsion. It made the officer a little drunk;
and frequently very fey.
"Now.
Here is a man, his name is Riveg Ndisi. You will note that he has
been injured, and also that he is asleep. He and I have together
completed the Sixth Level of the Question."
After
which Koscuisko had performed emergency stabilization, and fed the
prisoner enough drugs to keep him pain-free if unconscious until
Captain Lowden made a decision as to the final disposition of the
Brief. The prisoner had clearly not stirred since Koscuisko had
left him yesterday at fourthshift. The fetters that bound him to
the wall by his ankle-chains still lay neatly arranged at the foot
of the sleeprack.
It
was too bad that he was not to be permitted to lie quietly in his
bed—meager though it was—and die of a hygienic overdose of a narcotic.
But that was none of Stildyne’s business.. TOP
"Now
Mister Kerenko and Mister Micmac would usually move this man into
the inner room, for me. But you are here. Be pleased to take direction
from Pyotr, gentlemen, proceed."
The
inner room, Secured Medical proper. There was another way in to
Secured Medical, on the other side of the inner chamber; a ready-room,
with a washroom. Once Koscuisko had dismissed them Lek and Pyotr
would go there to wait, and would make sure that the washroom had
clean toweling on the warming-rack and clean linen waiting for Koscuisko
when he changed.
Koscuisko
had a horror of being seen with blood on his uniform. He was much
happier when he could pretend that other people could pretend that
they didn’t know just where he’d been, and what he’d been doing
there.
Stildyne
didn’t know why Koscuisko bothered, even so. It was the look on
Koscuisko’s face that told the truth of where he had been, and there
was no washing that horror out of Koscuisko’s haunted eyes, no matter
how much time he took to try to set himself to rights before he
left.. TOP
Koscuisko
palmed the counterseal—it would only accept Koscuisko’s authorization,
absent Captain Lowden’s direct intervention—and stepped through
into Secured Medical while Pyotr guided the hesitant Lieutenant
through the steps involved in raising an unconscious man to carry
him to the torture. It interested Stildyne to note that though she
clearly found the situation distasteful she neither shrank from
the task Koscuisko had set her to nor refused guidance coming from
a bond-involuntary.
Koscuisko
went to the middle of the wall to the right of the room and crouched
down to pull a floor-panel open, toggling some switches beneath
the tile. The Wall descended from its storage-place, rotating as
it tracked across the ceiling to come to rest in an inclined upright
position on the floor. It was really more of a grid than a wall.
And could serve as a table, when desired, but obviously Koscuisko
wanted it standing, just for now.
Koscuisko
didn’t bother with anything so tedious as instructions. His people
knew what to do with a prisoner and the Wall. Strolling to the opposite
side of the room, Koscuisko unlatched his drugs-caches and his equipment-racks
from their concealed storage within the smooth white wall-panels
of this sterile room. For the Lieutenant’s benefit, no doubt, Stildyne
told himself. Ordinarily Koscuisko restricted the amount of time
his people had to spend in the same room with instruments of torture:
at least when he was thinking about it.
Since
the Lieutenant was short and Pyotr’s partner Lek was not Pyotr helped
a bit, the weight of the unconscious man’s body being too unequally
distributed between her and Lek for efficiency. Once they had carried
the prisoner through to the workroom, however, Pyotr stepped back,
and gave directions with wordless gestures designed to communicate
without drawing too much attention to themselves.
The
Lieutenant bound the prisoner’s limbs to the grid with iron bands,
watching Pyotr for approval, watching Lek. Matching Lek’s actions
move for move. The Lieutenant set the straps and closed the vices,
and although she stared for one long moment in disbelief and disgust
at what Lek was showing her was to be done the Lieutenant set the
clamps and tightened the screws as well.
If
she hadn’t been creche-bred Stildyne might have acknowledged himself
impressed at her self-discipline—if only to himself. But everybody
knew that creche-bred lacked any real understanding that other hominids
were people too, who by extension suffered. It was an artifact of
their upbringing: the long years of relentless indoctrination, the
single-minded focus on the rule of Law.. TOP
By
the time the Lieutenant and Lek had finished their placement of
the prisoner Koscuisko had found the drug he wanted. Standing by
his chair, waiting for them, Koscuisko caught Stildyne’s eye; and
winked. Stildyne knew the signs. The officer was well past his initial
reluctance to face his Judicial function. The officer was beginning
to enjoy himself, in anticipation.
The
bond-involuntaries and the Lieutenant stood away from the Wall;
Pyotr bowed, to signify that all was as his Excellency would wish.
Koscuisko held up the stylus with the dose. "You are to put
this through at the groin," Koscuisko told ap Rhiannon. "You
know where to find the femoral artery? Very well. Proceed."
He
was confusing her. Taking the stylus, she put the dose through a
little awkwardly; but held it rather than returning it to Koscuisko,
clearly uncertain about what she was being told to do.
"If
his Excellency would entertain a question. Sir."
Creche-bred
could be as formal as bond-involuntaries. Until Stildyne had met
the Lieutenant he hadn’t realized that anyone could be as formal
as a bond-involuntary. It made him wonder whether creche-bred were
a species of bond-involuntaries at base; without governors, of course,
or if creche-bred had governors it was the best-kept secret in Jurisdiction
space.
"Thank
you, Pyotr, Lek. I do not see my rhyti, if you hurry we can remedy
that before my Riveg wakes up. Yes. Lieutenant." TOP
There
was a raised platform in the middle of the room, and a large comfortable
chair on that platform. With a side-table, where Koscuisko kept
his rhyti while he worked, and where Security would set his meals
out when Koscuisko did not care to interrupt an exercise to eat.
The tabletop was bare: Pyotr and Lek hastened for the ready-room
through the door at the far end of Secured Medical to take care
of that problem.
The
Lieutenant waited until they were gone to ask her question.
"Why
the drug, sir. Given the Wall."
An
intelligent question, really. It did her credit. Koscuisko smiled,
nodding his head to indicate that he understood her confusion. "You
take the drug for an instrument of Inquiry from the Controlled List,
Lieutenant? And not unreasonably so."
And
if the drug had been an instrument of Inquiry from the Controlled
List, why would Koscuisko have given orders to prepare his prisoner
for the more direct and grossly physical torment of the Wall? There
was no reason why she would know. Koscuisko had very little to do
with the Controlled List. Captain Lowden was interested in punishment,
in deterrent horror. Actual information was rather low on Captain
Lowden’s list of priorities.
"I
will explain myself, Lieutenant. It is only a stimulant to counteract
the narcotics with which I sent this man to sleep, yesterday. Or
was it instead perhaps this morning, already? I require his attention,
and that means he must wake up. But the drug is not in and of itself
torture."
Taking
her arm once more Koscuisko strolled over to the far end of the
room, pausing next to the door to open up a cabinet and display
the Record. Talking all the while.. TOP
"There
is a school of thought which holds that dirty work cleanly done
does not soil, and that the Controlled List is an elegant solution
to the problem of getting one’s hands dirty. For myself I cannot
respect that way of thinking. If I am to murder Riveg Ndisi at length
the very least I owe him is to know the smell of his blood for what
it is, and acknowledge myself soiled well and truly, body and soul.
Read from here, please, Lieutenant."
He
pointed her at the Record; the Lieutenant frowned at what she saw
on the scroller. "With respect, your Excellency. This states
confession in good form has been accepted and logged. Why are we
here?"
Koscuisko’s
point exactly, if the Lieutenant but knew. And she would guess.
If not now, then later. "No, you must read it out loud, you
are to be on Record. Proceed. If you please, Lieutenant."
He’d
left her few options. Frowning, ap Rhiannon scowled at the scroller.
"For the Record. In the matter of Riveg Ndisi, accused. Command
override has been issued for implied collaterals, the Eight Level
is authorized. By Fleet Captain Griers Verigson Lowden, Jurisdiction
Fleet Ship Ragnarok, commanding the Writ of Andrej Ulexeievitch
Koscuisko, duly assigned."
Nodding
with approval now Koscuisko switched the scroller to neutral. "Your
question is answered?"
"Sir.
I hadn’t realized. But as long as the Captain has more personal
knowledge of what this prisoner may know—". TOP
"Riveg
Ndisi," Koscuisko interrupted her firmly. "Not ‘this prisoner,’
Lieutenant. Never ‘this prisoner.’ If you give the orders you must
remember the name, it is not ‘this prisoner,’ it is a man, and he
is called Riveg Ndisi. You will need to know this information. It
is useful to be able to greet them by their names, when they visit
you at night. Once they are dead."
She
didn’t know how to interpret this apparently nonsensical claim on
Koscuisko’s part. Her look of confusion didn’t seem to disturb Koscuisko;
he simply drove his point home with what he clearly felt to be a
cogent argument.
"And
they will visit you at night, Lieutenant, you can my word accept
on this. I have experience."
The
Lieutenant might have heard rumors about Koscuisko; she might not
have. Koscuisko’s people were possessive, careful of their officer’s
dignity. And still there were rumors, because to have once heard
Koscuisko screaming in his sleep was to believe in the existence
of a living Hell.
And
it was hard for decent people to hold the horror of that revelation
within themselves without succumbing to the temptation to diminish
the horror by witnessing to it with their fellows. Calling it by
its name, as Koscuisko called his dead by name, pleading with them
to understand that they were dead and were no longer suffering.
That there was nothing that he could do to end their suffering.
That they were dead.
She
accepted Koscuisko’s calm assurances with a calm of her own that
was good enough that Stildyne couldn’t tell if it was real or feigned.
"Thank you, your Excellency, and I’ll remember. It’s Riveg
Ndisi. Sir. What next?" TOP
Maybe
she’d decided to humor him, without spending too much time analyzing
what he’d actually said. Koscuisko seemed to be satisfied either
way.
"Next
it is that you and Chief Stildyne leave, Lieutenant. I have work
to do, and the period for orientation tour is over now. Good-greeting.
Chief, it there is to be rhyti, please be so good as to hurry it,
but kindly. Ndisi will be waking soon. I should like to be alone,
before then."
Of
course. He’d always known how to hurry people. Only since Koscuisko
had come to Ragnarok had it ever occurred to him to do it
kindly; and the only reason he bothered even now was because Koscuisko
would think less of him if he handled Koscuisko’s bond-involuntaries
any less carefully than Koscuisko himself did. There were times
when Stildyne stopped to look at his life, and how Koscuisko had
changed it, and felt that Andrej Koscuisko had been a disaster as
unforeseen as it was absolute.
"According
to his Excellency’s good pleasure. Hurrying." Behind them,
on the Wall, the prisoner was beginning to stir, or to try to stir,
groaning. High time they were out of there. "Lieutenant."
"Thank
you for the opportunity, your Excellency." Her salute was careful,
formal, and precise. And perhaps just a little wary. Or maybe—Stildyne
told himself—he was imagining things. "Good-greeting,
sir."
The
door from the ready-room, next to the Record, opened abruptly, and
Pyotr stepped through with a rhyti-service on a tray. The Lieutenant
went out the way Pyotr had come in as soon as Pyotr cleared the
entryway: Stildyne followed after.
When
Koscuisko went home who would wake him when he dreamt?. TOP
When
Koscuisko went home would he dream?
Stildyne
accompanied the Lieutenant out of the area, silent and brooding.
He
wouldn’t know.
That
was the worst of it.
Koscuisko
would go home; and Stildyne would never hear from him again.
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