Myriad Universes 02_ Echoes and Refractions - Keith R. A. DeCandido [27]
“Torg,” Kruge commanded. “See if you can jog his memory.”
Torg balled up his fist and swung in a wide arc, viciously connecting with the left side of David’s face.
His vision flashed again and he cried out, and for the moment the pain was replaced by a thundering dull ache that permeated his entire skull. His vision slowly returned but was altered and unfocused as the room swam dizzyingly around him, punctuated by tiny flashes of colored light. With each beat of his heart the pain became more pronounced until the pounding throb felt as if his head might suddenly explode. He heard the fevered snarlings of the foul animal at his feet, expressing its approval of the proceedings.
“It is pointless to prolong the inevitable,” Kruge pronounced, now parading back and forth in front of his prisoner like a crazed martinet at a military tribunal. “One way or another you will tell me what I want to know.”
“Commander,” Maltz called out from the back of the room. “We could simply use the mind-sifter to retrieve all his knowledge.”
Kruge swung around to face him. “I am not interested in your infernal gadgetry!” he shouted. “You’ll leave me with a prisoner who is a drooling vegetable without control of his own bowels. I may still need him for leverage.” He turned back toward the chair and held up the end of his weapon, prodding David’s chest with one of the sharply pointed tips. “And that fact may keep you alive, though you’ll wish you were dead. Torg, break his finger.”
Grinning wickedly, Torg reached down and curled his fingers around the pinky of David’s left hand. David’s eyes widened with horror. For an instant he was willing to blurt out anything at all to prevent the forthcoming infliction-he wanted to yell out an impassioned plea to stop the torture, and to pledge his cooperation, but some part of his mind refused to offer up the words…refused to surrender while he still drew breath…
With a yank of Torg’s grip the bones of David’s finger emitted a gruesome cracking sound.
Like a jolt of electricity driven by a force of thousands of volts, the excruciating sensation shot through the nerves of his hand and arm. From deep within David’s chest an agonizing wail burst forth, nearly powerful enough to shake the bulkheads loose from the ship’s inner hull.
Kruge waited for the scream to abate, but still had to raise his voice over the din of David’s labored breathing. “You have the power to make it stop, human,” the Klingon commander hollered. “It’s time to cooperate. Now, tell me where the Genesis Project is headquartered.”
Regula, David thought, envisioning the planet as his eyes remained tightly squeezed shut. Just say the word. The Regula One science station. Say it and the pain will stop…
And the voice of Saavik echoed in his memory. Remember your friends on Regula One. His friends-those who gave their own lives to protect their secrets from those with evil intent.
“Shall I try another finger, sir?” Torg asked impatiently.
Kruge considered this. “No,” he decided. “Let Maltz do it.”
Standing several feet away, wide-eyed, the Klingon demurred. “Thank you, sir, but that is not necessary.”
“Necessity is irrelevant,” Kruge barked back. “I’m giving you an order.”
Maltz stepped forward but did not yet make a move toward their wounded hostage. “Commander, where is the honor in torturing a frail human who perhaps has no information to give?”
“Do not lecture me with platitudes about honor!” Kruge bellowed. “You have been a constant thorn in my side with your spineless compunction! Why don’t you show your honor by protecting the entire Klingon race from this scheming human petaQ?”
Maltz sighed with contrition. “Yes, sir,” he said, and stepped up to the interrogation chair.
David lifted his head from the back of the chair where it had lain, having focused on a single spot on the ceiling during the recent discussion to try