I leaned forward as much as the rig would allow. "Try it yourself," I suggested. "It can be done quickly-and then you will know."
He stared at me, this time in my face. "Maybe I should," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe I owe it to-somebody, to try it. And maybe I will, someday. But right now," he went on briskly, "you have more questions to answer. Answer them quick and proper and stay healthy. Be slow about it and I'll step up the current." He brandished the rod.
I shrank back, feeling dismay and defeat. For a moment I had thought he was going to accept the offer and I had been planning the possibilities of escape that could develop. "Now," he went on, "where do you come from?"
No answer . . . I felt no urge to answer.
The rod came closer. "Far away!" I burst out.
"That's no news. Tell me where? Where's your home base, your own planet?"
I had no answer. The Old Man waited a moment, then said, "I see I'll have to touch up your memory." I watched dully, thinking nothing at all. He was interrupted by one of the bystanders. "Eh?" said the Old Man.
"There may be a semantic difficulty," the other repeated. "Different astronomical concepts."
"Why should there be?" asked the Old Man. "That slug is using borrowed language throughout. He knows what his host knows; we've proved that." Nevertheless he turned back and started a different tack. "See here-you savvy the solar system; is your planet inside it or outside it?"
I hesitated, then answered, "All planets are ours."
The Old Man pulled at his lip. "I wonder," he mused, "just what you mean by that?" He went on, "Never mind; you can claim the whole damned universe; I want to know where your nest is? Where is your home base? Where do your ships come from?"
I could not have told him and did not; I sat silent.
Before I could anticipate it he reached behind me with the rod; I felt one smashing blow of pain, then it was gone. "Now, talk, damn you! What planet? Mars? Venus? Jupiter? Saturn? Uranus? Neptune? Pluto? Kalki?" As he ticked them off, I saw them-and I have never been as far off Earth as the space stations. When he came to the right one, I knew-and the thought was instantly snatched from me.
"Speak up," he went on, "or feel the whip."
I heard myself saying, "None of them. Our home is much farther away. You could never find it."
He looked past my shoulders and then into my eyes. "I think you are lying. I think you need some juice to keep you honest."
"No, no!"
"No harm to try." Slowly he thrust the rod past me, behind me. I knew the answer again and was about to give it, when something grabbed my throat. Then the pain started.
It did not stop. I was being torn apart; I tried to talk, to tell, anything to stop the pain-but the hand still clutched my throat and I could not.
Through a clearing blur of pain I saw the Old Man's face, shimmering and floating. "Had enough?" he asked. "Ready to talk?" I started to answer, but I choked and gagged. I saw him reach out again with the rod.
I burst into pieces and died.
They were leaning over me. Someone said, "He's coming around. Watch him; he might be violent."
The Old Man's face was over mine, his expression worried. "Are you all right, son?" he asked anxiously. I turned my face away.
"One side, please," another voice said. "Let me give him the injection."
"Will his heart stand it?"
"Certainly-or I wouldn't give it to him." The speaker knelt by me, took my arm, and gave me a shot. He stood up, looked at his hands, then wiped them on his shorts; they left bloody streaks.
I felt strength flowing back into me. "Gyro", I thought absently, or something like it. Whatever it was, it was pulling me back together. Shortly I sat up, unassisted.
I was still in the cage room, directly in front of that damnable chair. The cage, I noticed without interest, was closed again. I started to get to my feet; the Old Man stepped forward and gave me a hand. I shook him off. "Don't touch me!"
"Sorry," he answered, then snapped, "Jones! You and Ito-get the litter. Take him back to the infirmary. Doc, you go along."
"Certainly." The man who had given me the shot stepped forward and started to take my arm. I drew away from him.
"Keep your hands off me!"
He stopped. "Get away from me-all of you. Just leave me alone." The doctor looked at the Old Man, who shrugged, then motioned them all back. Alone, I went to the door, through it, and on out through the outer door into the passageway.
I paused there, looked at my wrists and ankles and decided that I might as well go back to the infirmary. Doris would take care of me, I was sure, and then maybe I could sleep. I felt as if I had gone fifteen rounds and lost every one of them.
"Sam, Sam!"
I looked up; I knew that voice. Mary hurried up and was standing before me, looking at me with great sorrowful eyes. "I've been waiting," she said. "Oh, Sam! What have they done to you?" Her voice was so choked that I could hardly understand her.
"You should know," I answered, and found I had strength enough left to slap her.
"Bitch," I added.
The room I had had was still empty, but I did not find Doris. I was aware that I had been followed, probably by the doctor, but I wanted no part of him nor any of them just then; I closed the door. Then I lay face down on the bed and tried to stop thinking or feeling anything.
Presently I heard a gasp, and opened one eye; there was Doris. "What in the world?" she exclaimed and came over to me. I felt her gentle hands on me. "Why, you poor, poor baby!" Then she added, "Just stay there, don't try to move. I'll get the doctor."
"No!"
"But you've got to have the doctor."
"No. I won't see him. You help me."
She did not answer. Presently I heard her go out. She came back shortly-I think it was shortly-and started to bathe my wounds. The doctor was not with her.
She was not more than half my size but she lifted me and turned me when she needed to as if I had been the baby she had called me. I was not surprised by it; I knew she could take care of me.
I wanted to scream when she touched my back. But she dressed it quickly and said, "Over easy, now."
"I'll stay face down."
"No," she denied, "I want you to drink something, that's a good boy."
I turned over, with her doing most of the work, and drank what she gave me. After a bit I went to sleep.
I seem to remember being awakened later, seeing the Old Man and cursing him out. The doctor was there too-or it could just as well have been a dream.
Miss Briggs woke me up and Doris brought me breakfast; it was as if I had never been off the sick list. Doris wanted to feed me but I was well able to do it myself. Actually I was not in too bad shape. I was stiff and sore and felt as if I had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel; there were dressings on both arms and both legs where I had cut myself on the clamps, but no bones were broken. Where I was sick was in my soul.
Don't misunderstand me. The Old Man could send me into a dangerous spot-and had done so, more than once-and I would not hold it against him. That I had signed up for. But I had not signed up for what he had done to me. He knew what made me tick and he had deliberately used it to force me into something I would never have agreed to, had I not been jockeyed into it. Then after he had gotten me where he wanted me, he had used me unmercifully.
Oh, I've slapped men around to make them talk. Sometimes you have to. But this was different. Believe me.
It was the Old Man that really hurt. Mary? After all, what was she? Just another babe. True, I was disgusted with her to the bottom of my soul for letting the Old Man talk her into being used as bait. It was all right for her to use her femaleness as an agent; the Section had to have female operatives; they could do things men could not do. There have always been female spies and the young and pretty ones had always used the same tools.
But she should not have agreed to use them against another agent, inside her own Section-at least, she should not have used them against me.