Mindshard (ON HOLD)

Chapter 8: Praetor

     Sensation was a fire-breathing monster, searing its way through his flesh and gnawing at the ends of raw and tender nerve endings.  Still he fought against it, howling into the depths of his mind as he tried to keep thick unconsciousness heaped deep around him.  In his struggle he watched images dart past his mind’s eye, almost too quick to identify: a silver ship, a giant station in space, alien creatures, agonizing pain.  One after another they came, a rushing river that refused his will’s demand to slow.

     His eyes finally fluttered open after what seemed an eternity in the maelstrom’s grip and, like the ebbing of the tide, the pain rapidly retreated until he was once again alone in his mind.

  “Welcome back, doctor.”  A soft voice whispered from somewhere by his feet, each tone carrying culture, sophistication and intelligence.

     For a brief moment his mind whirled, searching for self.  There, floating like flotsam in a storm’s wake: He was Ian Finn.

  “I’m surprised you’re still here, vev’Norantus.”  He husked through a desert-dry mouth and cracked throat, the name belonging to the voice’s owner appearing out of the broken remains of his memory.

  “Isn’t this the twelfth time I’ve been brought back?”

  “Fifteen, but who’s counting, doctor.”  The voice replied, never changing.  “You really should stop resisting.  It would negate the necessity in killing you over and over.”

  “What can I say?”  Finn rasped, his hands trembling as he pulled them from beneath the thin blanket covering his naked body.  He reached up to his neck and felt a chill wash through his body as his fingers fell across the all-too familiar metal bonded to his flesh.

  “I’m a tough nut to crack.”

  “An interesting term of description.”  The voice admitted.  There was a shifting in the shadows just outside of Finn’s view.  Then the sculpted features of a golden being hove into view to gaze down at him with a frown, its blue eyes studying him like he was some sort of lab animal.

  “But appropriate, considering how you still resist our will.”  The being’s mouth opened to utter, revealing itself as vev’Norantus.

     Finn closed his eyes against sight of the Halinor’s perfect face.

  “How many times do I have to tell you, Praetor?  I don’t know where to find this ‘Crown of Oberon’ you keep talking about.”  He rasped tiredly, already anticipating the searing waves of pain emanating from the metallic half moon molecular bonded to his neck, the source of agony enough to kill him fourteen times now after his refusal to give his captors what they wanted.

  “I didn’t even know the damn thing existed until the Pax contacted the Directorate a few days ago.”

  “Yet you had contact with several Isivir agents, doctor, including the sanctimonious Deks Rountree in that short period of time.”  Vev’Norantus’ voice abruptly hardened and instinctively Finn braced for the first shock of pain.  It seemed the Halinor’s threshold for frustration was quickly and easily reached.  And, as soon as vev’Norantus was frustrated, he started sending blasts of pain from the dominance collar through Finn’s body.

     They came in waves, piggy-backing along Finn’s own nervous system to attack the ganglia and nerve centers deep in the body, forcing them to shiver their way into crazed activity.  Nerve impulse after nerve impulse swept then through the body, hyper-stimulating the senses and wracking muscle tissue with knotting cramps.

     Within heartbeats the cramps were ripping his muscles apart, muscle fighting against muscle in a chaotic battle of pain and futility.  At the same time, the over-stimulated muscles broke bone and ruptured internal organs in their frenzy, literally twisting and bending the rest of the body into a shapeless bag of meat.  Blood poured from ruptured vessels, fountaining out of nostrils and mouth as the body beat itself to death.  And, all the while the brain gathered in every report of pain until it too was overwhelmed and the victim fell unconscious, mere moments before death.