CW: Horror shenanigans happen in this chapter. Mention of violence, bodies, and survivors of said horror shenanigans. I try not to be too graphic or gratuitous. Reader discretion is advised.

  The mystery door’s coloring is similar to the rock surrounding it, nearly impossible to see even from this close. Ono holsters his sidearm and pulls his AutoM, clicking the safety off and chambering a round. He doesn’t enjoy going into situations blind, it never ends well for him or his team. He tries to push the anxiety away and mentally prepares for anything. The hopper lands, and there’s a quiet hiss as the airlock opens. It stops with a crunch and screech of metal on metal, only opening halfway.

  Chakrum lets out a frustrated sigh and hits the red comms button on her holo band. “Xiang! Hopper’s aft door stickin’.”

  “Nah, fixed it, should be on the up,” Xiang responds over the garbled hiss of comm static. “Give a love tap. I’ll look when you get back.”

  It takes creative maneuvering for Chakrum, Reeves, and Ono to get through the cracked door and onto the asteroid.

  The trio kicks off and land bouncing through the limited gravity.

  Ono enjoys being off the ship, even if it’s in the tiny space suit. The ability to stretch and move around something other than Whiskey Rivers settles his nerves. They’ve been traveling between mining sites, and Ono isn’t handling it well. He hates being cooped up, reminds him of prison.

  Inactive turrets point towards and away from the door.

  Reeves cocks her head, looking from the turrets to Chakrum. “Why have weapons facing towards the door?”

  Chakrum’s stomach tightens as they get closer to the door, half expecting the turrets to come to life and end her. She’s a true spacer, third gen, she'd make it back to the shuttle even with a few bullets through her suit. But she doubts Reeves or Ono would be as lucky. Being an ice lolly in space isn’t the same as living in space. Different effects on your biochemistry.

  Even standing in front of the door, Chakrum half expects it to be a mirage, space playing tricks on them.

  “Should we listen to Sanders?” Reeves asks, nervously wringing the strap of her med kit.

  Ono suspiciously eyes the turrets. “Think you may be right with that horror vid thing, Saoirse. Cap, you sure about this?”

  Chakrum runs a hand over the door. She pulls two magnetic paddles from pockets and attaches them to the door. “Nah. Stab me, gotta eye all right quick.”

  “I think she means she has a bad feeling?” Reeves translates to Ono before he can ask for clarification.

  The two paddles lock in place and turn to engage. Chakrum, Ono, and Reeves hoist the door open. Well, she and Ono hoist the door and let Reeves believe she’s helping. She’s tiny, most Terran’s are. Ono towers over Reeves, and Chakrum is head and shoulders taller than Ono.

  They duck under the door, Ono twists his paddle, Chakrum does the same. The door almost crushes them as they shove back into terrifying darkness. Reeves lets out a startled yelp, hand going to her chest. Lights on either side of her helmet catch a large crag that looks like a man leaning against the wall.

  While Chakrum can logic away the ill sense that the shadows surrounding them crawl with sinister secrets. It still causes her to shudder as she lifts her arm and engages her holo scanner. The readings that pop up aren’t promising.

  She chews on her lip. “Life support’n’power offline. Oxygen carbon no surviv’ble. Us find console, eye we can power up.”

  The helmet’s lights and glow from Chakrum’s scanner are all that light up the eerie space. Its construction is crude and rushed. Nothing but exposed rock, metal beams, and inactive shield generators visible.

  Reeves trips over a body; its swollen, purple, and bloated. She pulls up her scanner and hits two buttons. “Male, forties, brutalized before he died of exposure. The wounds have patterns consistent with Feds interviews.”

  Ono scans the area. “Isn’t that what those monsters call torture?”

  Feds are the worst of the Terran’s. Chakrum keeps a wide berth. “Fok, ID?” Chakrum asks. She taps her chest twice and puts a hand on the shoulder of the corpse, or what she’s assuming is the shoulder.

  Rest easy in the light of the stars, from dust return to dust.

  Reeves nods, takes a small blood sample, and her scanner flashes as it computes. “That can’t be. Says here this poor bastard died on Earth four years ago. He was a suspected terrorist, worked for a resistance faction.”

  Chakrum sucks in a breath and shakes her helmeted head, rolling her shoulders. “Ya get ot’er bio reads?”

  Reeves is pretty sure the cap wants her to look for any other life signs, she looks at her scanner. Her inability to scan anything outside of where they’re standing makes her uneasy. The only time she’s run into this issue was when her team on earth stumbled into a black site which led to her first arrest. “Erm, there’s enough lead in the material composition I can’t read through any walls. I am picking up other bio data and DNA that doesn’t belong to this person. Can we go home now?” Reeves repeats what she said when Cap gives her a blank stare doing her best to say things so Cap will understand.

  Chakrum unholsters her sidearm and flicks the safety off. “Quicker better. Rubble sink a gut, get gone for ‘em eye a place.”

  Ono shakes his head. “Don’t understand, Cap.”

  Chakrum lets out an annoyed breath. “Quicker better. Rubble sink a gut, get gone for ‘em eye a place,” she says again, only slower and louder.

  Ono stifles a laugh.

  “Think she wants to look around and get out before whoever ran this place returns,” Reeves translates.

  Ono appreciates the fact Saoirse seems to get around the language barrier easier than he does. Probably because she worked with the unregistered back home. She was dealing with dozens of languages and accents; this can’t be much different.

  Ono nods. “Get that, Cap, I do. Place gives me chills, loads of evil in these rocks.”

  Reeves and Chakrum continue their scans as Ono looks for something to shoot. He doubts anything can live in an environment like this, but won’t take chances either.

  They walk down the hall and find another body. Reeves can’t find enough uncontaminated DNA for a match. Chakrum didn’t realize one could contaminate DNA, and Reeves used too much Terran as she tried to explain, Chakrum didn’t understand anything she said. It’s always best to nod in those situations, otherwise Reeves spins precious cycles they never have trying to explain.

  The trio comes to a sealed door and force it open. Chakrum turns away and dry heaves. With deep purposeful breaths, she silently offers a prayer for this body, too.

  Frozen maggots fill the body cavities, Reeves bends to take a sample. Hopefully, they will finish soon, so she can go cry in her quarters. “Another suspected terrorist. This was not a good way to die,” she murmurs. Her scanner lists the horrific things that happened to the poor bastard before and after death.

  Chakrum doesn’t know how to feel that a retirement level rock comes with this much death and bad juju. She shakes her head, eyes wide. “A fok we struikel?” she mutters translator glitching.

  Ono tightens his grip on his AutoM. “Heard about sites where they torture terrorists away from public scrutiny.”

  “First arrest was after stumbling on a black site,” Reeves offers. “Could be?”

  Ono glances at the body and shakes himself. Then looks up at Chakrum, readjusting his gun. “No one can hear you scream in space? Think that’s the saying. This be perfect, nowhere to run or hide. Can’t imagine them abandoning it, though. Something’s not right.”

  Chakrum just gives an exaggerated shrug. The next three doors they force open have bodies in various states. Two died from exposure, one from the gruesome wounds suffered. The horrifying state of the space hasn’t done a thing to help Chakrum’s nerves. She wanted an abandoned mine shaft, not this disturbing hidden torture chamber.

  “We should get out of here. The money can’t be worth it,” Reeves says, staring at the readings on her holo.

  An unsettled tightness grips Chakrum’s stomach and chest, driving her forward. They have to check the whole place.

  Ono gives Reeves another reassuring squeeze and a smile. “Bet it’s enough to buy you a ticket back to Cork. Is a trip home worth it?”

  Reeves stops and stares at Ono, then glances at Chakrum. “Is he serious? Is that the money we’re looking at?”

  Chakrum stares blankly. She was too busy with thoughts of the horrific things they’d seen to pay attention.

  Reeves’ hand goes to the helmet she forgot she was wearing as she tries to run a hand through her hair. Chewing her lip she thinks about the phrasing she needs for the Captain. “Uh, is eye a credit t’ get ‘em boots terra real?” Reeves asks.

  Chakrum chuckles, she loves when Reeves tries to mimic spacer speech patterns, it’s hilarious. She understands what Reeves is trying to say though and nods. “Aye onna up, retire offa load, ever all.”

  Reeves takes a deep breath and presses on, walking faster. What she wouldn’t give to sit on the porch of her grandfather’s cottage in County Cork and look out over the Atlantic again (assuming its still there). To grab hold of everything stolen from her: her wife, children, life. She pushes those thoughts fast away, those emotional floodgates never stay closed.

  At the end of the hall, Ono and Chakrum force a rusted metal door open using the paddles, and the trio walk into a space designed for pain. There are various machines and blood encrusted tools in crude holders on the walls. The chairs have straps on them with painful props attached. Slavers do terrible things to others, sell bodies, but the minds that designed these tools of torment had to belong to Feds from the inner planets.

  “Fok,” Chakrum mutters.

  A bloated person lies on a table, dead from exposure.

  Chakrum scans the space and walks towards a terminal. “Am tryna lights’n’air.”

  She sets her scanner on top of the terminal and hits a few buttons. Nothing happens. She tries again. The software is far too sophisticated for her simple device to handle. She can’t even plug in to do a manual hack.

  “Take more simple hack. Eye a livin’, for ‘em sake, prayers dead. Exposure seem a blessin’ bednyy fok hier,” Chakrum mutters, translator glitching again.

  “Uh, aye, Cap?”

  Chakrum sucks her teeth and shakes her head. Instead of repeating herself, she just starts walking out of the room and hopes they follow.

  The trio leaves the torture room and enters a new corridor. It has four doors, the first is easy to force open. Chained to the wall, spread eagle is a person in a pink suit. They’re about the same mass and height as Ono, but with more curve to their body. The suit clings tighter than a standard environmental or space suit. Even the helmet is smaller, and it’s attached to a hose hooked into the wall.

  The traces of oxygen and carbon she read are being pumped into the suit. Reeves finds it fascinating and wishes she had more time to study why its built like this. Even if it’s in a torture chamber, the technology is still interesting.

  The suit is an odd pale pink coloring, and it tickles the edges of Chakrum’s mind. She’s seen a similar suit before, she just can’t remember where. It looks like part of the suit may even fit up into crooks and crevices of the body, which makes less sense.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Reeves does a scan and her voice catches. “They are almost alive. Can’t tell if it’s a pulse or residual currents from the suit. I believe I’m seeing brain activity?”

  Reeves takes a small metal piece off her case and hits a button; it unfolds into a full hovering gurney working with the magnetics of the asteroid to float.

  Ono hangs his AutoM off his shoulder and pulls a plasma blade from his belt. It uses a heated blade to slice through the chain without melting it.

  Reeves and Chakrum catch the body and lie them on the gurney. Reeves secures the suited person and pushes a set of buttons. Wires plug into the suit and beep. A med panel pops up on the side, showing a faint pulse, low oxygen levels, and horrifyingly severe trauma.

  Reeves glances at the readouts and pushes a few buttons, starting the gurney’s limited lifesaving measures. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad, but this poor bastard has a faint pulse, respiratory action, and brain activity. Might save them if we can get back to med bay?”

  Chakrum looks at the gurney. “Quick eye last rooms, haul back. You ’em stay here or roll us, khorosho?”

  Reeves quickly follows Ono and Chakrum as they continue down the hall. She still half expects a wraith to jump out at them. There’s no way she’s staying anywhere in this place alone.

  The next two rooms are empty, nothing but piles of organic matter. The scanners can’t determine if they were once human or not.

  An unscannable room sits at the end of the corridor. Ono and Chakrum pry the door open with the paddles. Another person in a tight pink suit chained to the wall, a hose runs from the suit into the wall. This one is much smaller than the first. Pale skin seems to have similar pink hues in the cheeks as the suit. Probably Terran, they’re similar in size to Reeves. The controls that were holding the chain to the wall released some slack. The person still has shackles around their wrists and ankles but they’re huddled on the floor instead of tightly against the wall.

  045 knew it was too much to hope they left her to die. She’s unsure how long she’s been in the room alone. Been dark, the lights on the walls cut out and the limited light given off by her suit faded a while ago. “No more, I don’t know. Please don’t hurt me, please don’t!” she sobs, scrambling away, putting her hands above her helmeted head.

  Chakrum’s breath catches as she takes in the person’s state and the room. Their voice is hollow but has the telltale cadence of a Terran.

  A prayer to the stars.

  Chakrum steals a glance at Ono and Reeves. Ono crosses himself, Reeves tries to wipe a tear away, forgetting she’s helmeted.

  “Reserve oxygen levels below nominal,” the pink suit chirps. “Life support failing."

  Chakrum holsters her sidearm. “No here hurt ya, wanna help,” she says as slow as she can. Hopefully, the Terran will understand she’s not part of the group that’s been doing awful things to them.

  045 doesn’t want anyone to help her again. Help hurts too much. “No... No... Last time — don’t help me again. Just kill me, I’m begging you!”

  Chakrum takes a careful step into the room. She looks around at the blood-stained walls and lumpy bedroll. With a grounding breath, she tries to speak slower and clearer. “Am not ‘em done alla terrible here, am Chakrum a Whiskey Rivers, is Reeves’n’Ono.”

  045 continues trembling, wrapped around herself to block unwanted violence. “Tell you whatever you want to hear. What do you want to hear?” she asks, praying this time they end her.

  Chakrum doesn’t understand the Terran. Reeves lifts her scanner and takes readouts.

  Ono slings his gun over his shoulder and pulls his blade out to cut the chains and release the survivor. “Don’t wanna hear a t’ing. Let’s get you outta here.”

  045 jumps back sobbing hysterically, trying to climb under the small lumpy bedroll. They can’t cut her anymore, doesn’t want the pain. “Please don’t! No more.”

  Ono stops moving into the room, puts his knife in its hilt, and steps back out.

  Chakrum looks at Reeves, who has silent tears dripping off her cheeks the limited gravity just enough to pull them away from her eyes. She looks from her scanner to the person in the suit.

  “Oh, you poor dear, what they’ve done to you,” Reeves murmurs more to herself than those around her. She turns her attention to the survivor. “I promise we won’t hurt you, love. I’m a doctor, sworn to protect.”

  “Life support has failed. Oxygen levels reaching critical,” the pink suit chirps.

  045 shakes her head and crumples deeper into the floor, whimpering. “Doctor’s bad, took the others, did awful things. I’m a terrorist, made those bombs and more, destabilize everything, end the hard work. That’s what you want, right? What you want — Bombs everywhere, put them everywhere to stop progress. Does that help?”

  Chakrum takes a deep breath, stuffing her emotions somewhere other than the surface. She can’t cry until she’s alone in her bunk. This person needs someone stronger. Her joints don’t have the dexterity to go down to a knee. But she bends awkwardly, ignoring the pain shooting through her. “Whatchya name?”

  “Zero-four-five.”

  “Nah, real name,” Chakrum states, wincing as she scoots closer.

  045 pushes into the other corner, clawing away from the giant in front of her. “Can’t, just a number now. Just Zero-four-five.”

  “For a number?” Chakrum asks.

  “Mom, Maggie — Now, I’m Zero-four-five,” she whispers with ragged breaths.

  Chakrum adjusts the suit around her and pulls at the helmet so she can see Maggie. “Maggie. Ya ear am say, uh, my name?”

  She shakes her helmeted head, sniffling, her breathing becomes more labored. The one talking is difficult to understand. She has a thick accent that’s not recognizable and even kneeling is a massive person.

  Chakrum taps her chest and tries to speak slowly and emphasize her words, like she does with Reeves and Ono. “Am Chakrum Gravers, cap’n a Whiskey Rivers.”

  Maggie chuckles, but her face falls and her eyes get wide. “Not laughing at you, not—”?

  Chakrum chuckles. “Nah, ya’llowed laugh,”

  Chakrum puts a gentle hand on Maggie’s shoulder. Maggie pulls away, sinking lower, breathing more labored.

  “Maggie, am take ya my ship. Getchya drink, eye on ya need t’ree, eh?”

  Maggie struggles as Chakrum cuts the chains. Her translator clearly isn’t working. Perhaps she’s from one of the African or Slavic unions? “Don’t remember. Hard to remember anything else. Hurts, I hurt, don’t want to anymore.”

  Chakrum doesn’t understand, but doesn’t need to. She smiles at Maggie and tries to put a gentle hand on their shoulder again. “Almost done. Reeves gurney ready?”

  Chakrum takes a hose from her suit and plugs into Maggie’s. There’s a hiss and the lights on Maggie’s suit go from red to green.

  Maggie takes deep breaths for the first time since the lights went out. The air is stale and smells dusty, but it’s nice to breathe right again.

  Reeves pulls a second gurney off her kit and expands it. “Glad I brought both. Ready, Cap.”

  Chakrum cuts the last chain and Maggie scrambles further, sobbing harder, almost ripping the hose out. Carefully, Chakrum slides the blade back to Ono. He’s very deliberate in his movements as he bends, picks it up, and sheaths it again.

  Chakrum scoots towards Maggie, readjusting her suit. Her body screams in protest at the prolonged time in the unnatural position. “Hey, now, wanna help ya.”

  Maggie wrings her gloved hands and stays with her back against the wall. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

  The poor bastard’s broken voice hits at Chakrum. She smiles and takes a deep breath and says the words as slowly as she can. “We no hurt ya, come.”

  Maggie tentatively let Chakrum help her off the ground, stumbles, and falls out the door. The massive woman is nearly double her size, there’s no use fighting someone that big.

  Chakrum helps Maggie up onto the gurney, light as a bedroll, Chakrum can’t remember the last time she lifted a person this small. Probably Reeves after they first met?

  Maggie tries to push off, becoming more agitated. “No, not—”?

  Chakrum puts a reassuring hand on the Maggie’s suited shoulder. “Whatever ‘em do not us.” Chakrum looks up at Ono and Reeves. “Get ‘em back a ship. Xiang toss a data. Scrap, melt, move.”

  Ono starts to ask for clarification, Reeves taps his shoulder. “We need to get the survivors to the medbay. She will have Xiang come download the files then we will collect the scrap, haul rock, and move on as quickly as we can.”

  Ono nods. “Sounds good. I’ll help however and wherever I can.”

  Chakrum holds Maggie’s hand as they awkwardly move down the hall. They swing wide to maneuver the gurneys around the corner and towards the front of the building.

  Maggie looks around the crude hallway. “This is wrong, goes out—”

  Chakrum nods. “We go out.”?

  Maggie shakes her head. “I’m not allowed, can’t leave — explode.”?

  The trio stops.

  Reeves does a slow scan of both survivors. “I’m not picking up any incendiary devices or implants. Although this one here seems to have military grade tech implanted on their brain stem and along their spine. Um... No boom? But is tech’d onna right up?”

  Chakrum can’t help but laugh at Reeves, then smiles down at Maggie. “Am t’ink ‘em speak ya t’ keep ya runnin’. Getta door open, our guests a med bay.” She points to the other gurney. “Ya know who ‘em is?”

  Maggie stares blankly at Chakrum.

  Reeves smiles down at her. “She just said they probably lied to you to keep you from trying to escape, though there isn’t anywhere to escape out here.” She then points at the person she’s pushing. “Do you know who they are?”

  Maggie shrugs, trying to take slow, even breaths. “Zero-three-eight, they fancy zero-three-eight. Zie’s pretty and powerful. Make me watch while they do bad things. Zir watches while they... Hurts. I lied, told them what I thought they wanted. That didn’t work. Didn’t make it better, only hurt worse.”

  “How come you two have suits on? We don’t find no one else, just bodies.” Ono asks.

  Tears drip down Maggie’s hollow cheeks into her ears. “We are just bodies.”?

  Chakrum may not always understand what Terran’s are saying, but she understood the sentiment. She takes a slow breath to keep the emotions from seeping into her voice. “Am sorry.”?

  Maggie moans and shifts. Reeves pushes a couple buttons on the side of her gurney. Maggie looks up at Chakrum. “I should have known the answers, then they wouldn’t have to hurt me. He told me unsightly things don’t have to become everyone. Not if they’re good and do what they’re supposed to.”

  “Darlin’ I assure you, you didn’t earn a bit of dis hurt,” Ono mumbles.

  Chakrum, Reeves, and Ono get the door up high enough to push the gurneys out. Maggie’s eyes get wide as she looks around at the stars. “Oh wow, this isn’t — Oh my god this isn’t Terra. Where are we?”

  Chakrum holds Maggie down on the gurney as they walk towards the small shuttle. She looks over and sees 038’s gurney tighten the straps to keep her down. Chakrum’s always mystified by Reeves’ colony med tech. “Deep slow breath, Mags. Lotta way off Terra, jump ‘em nuf hoops getchya home.”

  Maggie doesn’t understand, but she doesn’t care because she can see stars!

  Reeves and Ono go through the broken door first, the gurneys after them, then Chakrum. She hits the hydraulics and shakes them until the door shuts. She uses a cord to tie the door down. “Hope ‘at holds?”?

  Maggie can’t stop gazing in awe. “So many stars... Went to a space camp when I was six — Harold leaves Terra all the time. I stay home with the kids. I dreamed of this, always wanted.”

  They lift off towards the ship.

  “Heya Cap, should I prep Med? May eyed gurney,” Sanders asks over the static riddled comms.

  “Got two, one right critical. Xiang meet a airlock, dunno we getta hatch open.”

  “On it, have everything fired up here.”

  They make their way back and dock. Xiang tweaks the door, and it opens all the way. She wheels away from the door, yawning. She hates getting up before she’s supposed to.

  Reeves takes the gurney with 038, Chakrum stays with Maggie. Chakrum removes her helmet and in seconds has shrugged out of her suit, letting it hit the deck. “Is my ship, at’s Xiang, our chief engineer.”?

  “She doesn’t want to hurt me either?” Maggie asks, timidly.

  The fear in Maggie’s voice cracks Chakrum’s chest further. She smiles warmly. “No one do, no here.”

  Xiang looks up at Chakrum. “Anything down there?”?

  Chakrum nods. “Am couldn’t hack a scanner. Snag a files, scrap a place.”

  Xiang rolls away. “I’ll gear up my legs and grab a kit.”?

  Chakrum waves it off. She knows how much Xiang hates doing that. “Can bring a chair, no need.”?

  “Nah, I tweaked the hydraulics, need to get used to the damn things.” Xiang goes towards engineering as the rest head towards the medbay.

  Maggie’s eyes are wide as she looks around the tight corridor they’re walking down and reaches out to touch the wall.

  Sanders comes out of the medbay holding a pair of gloves. “Heya Doc, whatever Xiang did got a table workin’ again! Loaded nanobiotics. Have ‘em ready for programmin’. Need hands?”

  Maggie whimpers. The burly man isn’t as tall as the captain, but looks like he could hurt her if he wanted. She doesn’t want to hurt anymore, can’t, so she grabs onto the captain tighter.

  Chakrum looks down at Maggie, then back up at Sanders. “Am help Reeves. Want ya, Ono prep go back. Scrub, scrap, mine inna twelve hour.”

  Sanders rubs his necks and lets out a low whistle. “Atta heavy order.”?

  Chakrum shrugs. “All hands, place ain’t right.”?

  Sanders nods. “We’ll bring alla toys.”

  Maggie sobs and tries to push off the gurney. “I don’t want to play with the toys. Please, no!”

  “Minin’ toys, hon, equipment,” Sanders states, putting up his hands.

  “Like am speak, gonna hurt none,” Chakrum says.

  Maggie stays curled up on herself. “Can’t take anymore. Broken, just want an end,” she murmurs. They’ll start the pain again soon.

  Chakrum pats Maggie’s shoulder. “Fight over, not’in’ bad happen here.”

  Reeves gets 038 out of their suit. Parts that were fitted up inside cause fresh blood to spring up when removed. They’re naked, covered in bruises and scars, old and new. Reeves assumes that means they had time in and out of the pink suits. She connects 038 to life support on the table. Her fingers fly over the controls as she programs the nanobiotics.

  “Can help ya out yer suit?” Chakrum asks Maggie.

  Maggie shifts into a standing position. “It hurts when it comes off, but you won’t hurt me.”

  Chakrum nods. “Wanna help heal ya, getchya home.”?

  Maggie lets Chakrum take the helmet off, then the gloves and suit. Chakrum sucks in a deep breath and turns to catch the tears. Maggie’s not wearing anything under the suit, but the scars and unhealed wounds that cover her emaciated body. Chakrum pulls off her work shirt. Her dingy tank top shows off tattoos and work related scars. Maggie’s suit falls to the floor, and Chakrum wraps Maggie up in her work shirt. “No worry Reeves getchya right as dust, eh?”

  Reeves shakes her head and wipes her eyes. “Zero-three-eights record is nothing but redacted files. The trauma’s severe, I don’t know if they’ll make it.” She turns and scans Maggie. “There’s significant damage that didn’t heal. It looks like someone with basic field medicine did this.”

  “Doesn’t matter if we heal right, just enough. Enough to do it again, and again, until we give the right answers,” Maggie whispers. Tears well up, she blinks them away. It’s nice to be out of her room. These people haven’t harmed her yet. Could be an elaborate new game.

  Reeves bites her lip and shakes herself. “We’ll do it right this time. Let me give you something so you’ll sleep through it. Wake up healed and ready to go.”

  “Can I sleep? Say liars don’t get the luxury of sleep, only pain,” Maggie murmurs, wringing her hands.

  “Here we are love, this’ll help. Just lie back and rest, you’re safe.” Reeves gives Maggie a shot, and before she can panic or object Maggie’s head lulls to the side.

  Chakrum shifts her gaze from the battered Terran to Reeves. “Doc—”?

  “Ya don’t wanna know, is brutal. Am do I can make ‘em comfortable. Try t’ circumnavigate trauma, affected neuropathways,” Reeves interjects. Doing her best to use words she hopes will register with the Captain.

  Chakrum knows better than to argue with Reeves, she isn’t one to exaggerate. “Do whatchya can for ‘em.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Reeves turns her attention back to the tables. Chakrum’s emotions bubble up, she pushes them down deeper. No time for them yet.