33

Rath pulled against the restraints again, testing them experimentally. The leather cuffs at his ankles moved slightly, but the ones around his wrists kept his arms pinned securely to the hospital gurney. The belt across his chest was so tight that he was forced to take short, shallow breaths. He closed his eyes, willing himself to stay calm.

He heard the lock in the cell door click, and then the door swung open, admitting a man in a white lab coat. Rath watched the man set a metal carrying case on a table and flick the buckles open. He withdrew a metal collar and then turned and placed it around Rath’s neck, clipping it shut.

“You guys are worried I’m going to change my appearance?” Rath asked.

The doctor shook his head. “This device doesn’t interfere with your facial implants,” he said.

“What is it, then?” Rath asked.

“It’s a hemobot compiler,” the doctor said. “It gives us direct control over the nanomachines in your bloodstream.”

“So I can’t kill myself before you’ve had your fun,” Rath guessed.

“Yes,” the doctor agreed. “And it will enable us to do … other things, too.”

The doctor took a datascroll out of the carrying case, and entered several commands into it.

>>>Warning, Rath’s internal computer displayed. Hemobot connection lost.

“Guards,” the doctor called. He picked up the carrying case and left the room.

Two soldiers entered, and while one covered him with a stun pistol, the other set to work unstrapping Rath. When the guard was finished, he stood Rath up, and attached a pair of handcuffs to Rath’s wrists. Then they marched Rath down the hall, and outside.

The day was overcast and gray, and Rath, stripped down to just a pair of thin briefs and the metal collar, shivered in the cool wind. The guards led him down the camp’s central roadway, his bare feet kicking up dust. Gaunt, frail camp inmates glanced furtively at him as he passed them by, then cast their eyes downward.

They look like skeletons, Rath thought. Living skeletons.

Rath and his guards passed a final set of buildings, and emerged onto a large, open plaza in the middle of the camp, ringed on all sides with barracks buildings. Rath noted a row of thick wooden stakes in the middle of the plaza, and several hundred armed Jokuan soldiers formed up in ranks, facing the stakes. He saw other soldiers manning the plaza’s perimeter, including sand-bagged machine gun positions on the roofs of several of the buildings. An armored truck sat parked at each corner of the square, and Rath’s enhanced hearing picked up the sound of a drone hovering high overhead.

That’s an awful lot of firepower just to make sure I die.

They drew near the wooden stakes, and Rath saw General Yo-Tsai, talking with a group of senior officers, including the doctor who had attached Rath’s collar. His guards brought him to the center stake, and one of them grabbed a length of chain from the top of the stake, attaching it to Rath’s handcuffs. Then he pulled the chain taut, yanking Rath’s arms up above his head, until most of his weight was hanging from the chain, his feet barely touching the packed earth. Rath winced, but stayed silent.

Yo-Tsai broke away from the group and walked over to Rath.

“I’m flattered you brought so many spectators,” Rath said, nodding toward the soldiers in formation.

“They’re here to ensure your friends don’t come back, and try to pull another of their stunts,” Yo-Tsai said. “Though my men will undoubtedly be entertained by all of this, too. But the real spectators are the people of the galaxy. Your death will show them all what happens when you resist the might of Jokuan.”

Over Yo-Tsai’s shoulder, Rath saw a soldier set a video camera on a tripod, and adjust it momentarily. He stepped back, and saluted Yo-Tsai.

“We’re ready to stream the video, sir.”

“Very good,” Yo-Tsai said.

“I don’t get a trial?” Rath asked.

“You want another trial?” Yo-Tsai replied, chuckling.

“No,” Rath decided. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Yo-Tsai smiled. “Turn the video on.” He faced the camera. “People of the Federacy: Rath Kaldirim has been found guilty of crimes against the Jokuan people.” Yo-Tsai turned. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m guilty,” Rath said.

A surprised look flickered across Yo-Tsai’s face.

“I’m guilty,” Rath continued, “of murdering fifty innocent people as a contractor in the Janus Group. One of those people was Pono leGris, a native of Jokuan. A freedom fighter who stood up against the injustices of the Jokuan regime.”

“Pono leGris was a terrorist and a criminal,” Yo-Tsai said, arching an eyebrow. “You’re being punished for your actions on Tarkis.”

“I was defending my home planet against an illegal invasion,” Rath said.

“You used deceit to ambush nearly a dozen brave soldiers of Jokuan as they attempted to bring peace and prosperity to the planet of Tarkis,” Yo-Tsai corrected him.

“‘Peace and prosperity’? Tarkis was peaceful before you arrived, and you were trying to steal its prosperity.” Rath turned his head to the side and spat. “And I killed way more than a dozen of your shitbag soldiers. Give me some credit.”

“For your crimes,” Yo-Tsai continued, unfazed, “you are sentenced to death. In your bloodstream are thousands of hemobots. Normally they help you heal when you are sick or wounded. Some of them will continue to do so, to keep you alive as long as possible.” Yo-Tsai walked over to Rath, and pointed at the metal hemobot compiler around his neck. “But with this device, we will reprogram the rest of your hemobots to attack your cells, and systematically destroy you, from the inside out. My medical experts have devised a course of treatment that will result in maximum, prolonged suffering. They will ensure your vital organs are kept intact while you lose your extremities, slowly, piece by piece. You’ll remain awake, without food or medication, and tied to this stake the entire time. Each day, a new battalion of troops will rotate in to observe your punishment. I promised my men you would suffer for what you did. And I keep my promises.”

The general raised an eyebrow. “The doctor assures me that he’ll be able to keep you alive for at least a month. He believes you should still be conscious and functioning after losing more than seventy percent of your body. I’m looking forward to finding out.”

Yo-Tsai stepped back and gestured to the doctor. The man touched a button on the screen of his datascroll. Rath felt a twinge in his gut. A tickle at first, like the brush of a feather. Then, with a suddenness and intensity that took his breath away, the pain washed over him, spreading throughout his body. Rath’s whole body tensed, contorting as it dangled from the stake, his mouth stretched wide in a rictus of shock and agony. Then he screamed.

 

* * *

 

The minutes stretched into hours, each one an agonizing eternity. Rath tried to distract himself, but every time he found something to occupy his mind, a fresh attack struck him in a new location, and the different pain sensation grabbed his full attention.

At one point, hours after he had lost his voice, he realized that night had fallen. A series of floodlights illuminated the plaza. Rath saw that a new batch of troops had been marched into the square, replacing the old battalion – he had not been aware of them changing places. Yo-Tsai was gone, but the doctor remained nearby, checking his datascroll from time to time, monitoring Rath’s progress closely. Rath wasn’t sure if it was the same doctor from the morning or not. But the video camera was still on, its black lens focused on him, unblinking.

His gut churned, and he dry-heaved, but his stomach had emptied itself hours ago. He decided to focus on the dull ache from his wrists, where he hung from the handcuffs chained to the stake – that, at least, was constant. And then a new spike of pain stabbed him in the back, and he shut his eyes, writhing.

 

* * *

 

They dumped a bucket of cold water on him near dawn. Rath realized they were cleaning him – he had soiled himself at some point. He was bleeding from several open wounds at different points on his body – the hemobot damage had pierced his skin in some locations. He watched, in gruesome fascination, as one of the wounds on his chest slowly enlarged, the flesh at the edges being eaten away by the invisible machines. Blood trickled down his chest, mingling with the watery mud at his feet.

Yo-Tsai came back, hours later, and lifted Rath’s chin off his chest. Rath’s eyes rolled in their sockets.

“Are you ready to repent your crimes against Jokuan, Guildsman?” he asked.

Rath shook his head, weakly.

Yo-Tsai said something else, but Rath couldn’t focus on the words. He took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Is he passing out?” he heard Yo-Tsai ask.

“No, sir,” he heard another man reply. “Just delirious. I can keep him awake and conscious, but there’s no way to keep him mentally sound.”

Yo-Tsai grunted, and turned back to Rath.

“What does it feel like, 621?”

Rath mumbled a response.

“What did you say?” Yo-Tsai asked. The general leaned in close.

“Absolution,” Rath whispered.

When Rath looked up again, night had fallen, and Yo-Tsai was gone.