Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1999 16:43:27 -0600 (MDT) From: "Katherine R. Freymuth" Subject: Whale ch 23 Message-ID: Chapter 23 "Sam, are you awake? "I am now," Sam moaned in response, sitting up on his bed. "Hey, keep it down. Okay?" Al warned. "We don't want to wake me up, do we? I mean, we don't want to... Well, you know what I mean." Al motioned towards the bathroom. I'll meet you in the head." With that, he disappeared. Sam rubbed his eyes gently. This had to be a good one for Al to wake him up at three o'clock in the morning. Sam grabbed his robe and slipped it on as he headed for the bathroom. He opened the door to find Al waiting as promised, sitting in a wheelchair. "Not that bad, huh?" Sam questioned, closing the door. Al looked at him in confusion. "What?" "Your injuries," Sam pointed out. "They look pretty bad to me if you have to be in a wheelchair." Al exhaled and rubbed his face slightly. "Sam, I'm fine. Really. The wheelchair is a precaution, that's all." Sam frowned. He didn't believe the Admiral's explanation but, before he could confront his friend, Al spoke again. "Sam, we know what's going to happen tomorrow." Sam was fully awake now. "You do?" Al nodded. He brought the handlink up to read. "At the Congressional hearing tomorrow, while you're making your presentation, Zoe is going to shoot you." "So, we know into whom Zoe has leaped," Sam concluded. "Zoe?" Al asked. "Who's Zoe?" Sam looked at his friend with deep concern. "The Evil Leaper," he reminded the older man. Al shrugged, not understanding. Sam frowned strongly. "You don't remember Zoe? The person who wants to kill me tomorrow?" "Oh! Zoe! I thought she was the psychiatrist." Sam hesitated, confusion on his face. "No, that's Verbina Beeks." Al too hesitated. "What were you saying now?" Sam exhaled. "We know who Zoe is, into whom she's leaped. Right?" Sam repeated his conclusion, He sat down on the toilet seat to allow Al to see him without straining his neck upward. Al shook his head. "No, we don't know. See, their computer has been jamming... Ziggy's communication lines, even though we never really got much from them in the first place. But the closer we come to the time of your death, the more information we get. I think that's what they're worried about. So, be glad we got what we did, Sam." Sam nodded. Finally, Al was beginning to sound like himself again. Still, there was something definitely wrong with him. "Okay. How many people are going to be at the hearing?" "Including you and me, eight," Al answered without looking at the handlink, the first time he didn't do so since he entered the Imaging Chamber. Sam looked at Al with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "What's wrong, Al? Why is it you can remember how many people were at the hearing but you can't remember Zoe or Dr. Beeks?" Al hesitated. "I'm not exactly sure. I can remember everything that happened right up to the hearing but after that point my memory is a little fuzzy. Ziggy explained it a few minutes ago, Something about remembering less the closer we get to the time you're supposed to be killed." "Is this memory loss happening throughout the complex?" "I don't know," Al answered. "Probably. Listen, Sam, I've got to go. There's just one question, though." "What is it?" Al hesitated, an embarrassed look on his face. "How do I leave?" "You want what?" the man exclaimed in response to Thames' demand. "I can't give you my clearance code! What do you want it for anyway?" Thames struck the man in the face with the back of his hand. The man ignored the sting of Thames' strike. "Don't get smart with me!" Thames warned. "It doesn't matter what I want it for. I want it and you are going to give it to me as well as anything else I ask of you." The man smiled devilishly. "You didn't say please." Thames struck him again. "We have ways of getting what we want - ways that would not appeal to you, I can tell you." Thames smiled at him. "So, please, keep fighting us." "What are you going to do? Breathe on me?" the man answered sarcastically. Thames glared at him in response. "You don't like me very much, do you?" "Let's just say that history will show that we become enemies. So, I would suggest that you give me that code. I really don't know what I would do if you don't." "Nice speech but I haven't changed my mind. The answer is still no." "I see." Thames nodded. As he did so, he raised his walking cane so that he held it in its center. Then, with one swift move, he hit the man across the face with the walking cane, causing his victim to scream in pain. "Now, listen here, you piece of shit! You may not care what happens to you but let me remind you that we happen to know where your fiancee is and I'm sure she'd love to be one of our guests." "You bastard!" the man said with intense hatred. He was fighting to ignore the extreme pain he felt on the left side of his face. His entire head hurt from the blow of Thames' cane. "What was her name again?" Thames taunted. "If you even get near her, I'll kill you," the man warned. "Oh! I'm shaking!" Thames exclaimed sarcastically. "You can't do a damned thing! However, if you tell me your code, I think I could possibly insure her safety." The man laughed cynically. "Go to hell." Thames didn't smile. "I've already been there." He raised his cane and struck him again, this time on the right side of the head. The man screamed again. His whole body now hurt from the blows. The pain was so much that tears began to come from his eyes. "The code," Thames told him in a quiet, menacing voice. The man shook his head. "I've waited out worse people than you." "Oh, really? I guess we're going to have to do this the hard way - for you, that is." With that, the room was flooded with a blinding light which came from the door. Thames walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving the man in darkness. It seemed for a moment as if Thames had decided to take a break from the interrogation. Suddenly, a high-pitched screeching sound filled the room. The man close his eyes tightly as he tried to protect his fragile ears from the piercing sound. His whole body hurt horribly as the sound reverberated in his head. He tried to raise his hands in defense but they were still tightly clamped to the arms of the chair. He screamed in agony, begging for the torture to stop. After what seemed to be like an eternity - it was actually five minutes - his wish was granted. The man dropped his head on his chest, exhausted from his fight. Thames returned to the room, a glass in his hand. "Water?" he offered the man. The man nodded his head slightly, breathing too hard to reply verbally. Thames released the man's left hand and gave him the glass. The man fought to keep him hand from shaking. He tasted the water carefully. "It's not drugged or poisoned, if that's what you're worried about," Thames told him. "We need you alive and, preferably, awake." He gave him an evil smile. "You can't get information if your guest is neither." The man slowly drank the water, his head steadying with each taste. Still, it was a difficult task, given that he was right-handed. When the man had finished, Thames took the glass and clamped the man's arm back to the chair's arm-rest. "I'd really hate to see your fiancee go through what you just went through. I hear she's very attractive. However, I do know someone who would love to see her tormented this way," Thames told him with a smile. "We can do so much to her. So, why don't you cooperate with us and save yourself and your fiancee a great deal of pain." The man, panting in exhaustion, looked at Thames with loathing. Thames sighed. "Don't make us do that to you again. We might have to turn you over to Lothos." "Lothos?" the man asked in a whisper. Thames laughed in amusement. "You don't want us to hand you over to him, believe me. He can put you through a living hell. Your worst nightmare. Anything to get what he wants. So, for your sake and for the sake of your fiancee, tell us the code." The man sighed, catching his breath. "I have certain responsibilities as an off..." "Responsibilities?" Thames laughed. "Your responsibilities do not include dying over a number." The man looked at him. "I thought you said you needed me alive. There has to be more to this than trying to get me to tell you my clearance number. Besides, you couldn't use it even if you had it." Thames sighed. He pressed a few buttons on the handlink and stepped back. This time the pain came from the chair itself as electricity flowed into the man's body. The man screamed and writhed in agony. A few seconds later, the electricity was gone and Thames approached the man again. "It grieves me to see you like this. I'm really beginning to like you and I can see how your enemies respect you. We would make wonderful allies." "Bullshit," the man whispered, out of breath. Thames smiled slightly. "Looks like we are going to have to give you to Lothos after all. How delightful!" He turned around with a small laugh and left the room. This time, though, the man was not alone. There was something else there and he knew it. A chill went down his spine. Thames stood outside of the Holding Chamber, waiting. A moment later, the sounds for which he was waiting came. Sounds of pure agony filled the room. Thames smiled with delight, walking away from the door to go to a hidden room where he could watch the show as the man was tortured. Hours passed. The screams were turning into small whimpers with each passing torture that the victim endured. Finally, he could no longer handle the torture. "Stop!" he cried out, his voice a low rough rasp. "Please! Gawd!" At the plea, the torture stopped. The man was hardly breathing, completely exhausted, as Thames returned to the Holding Chamber. He looked down at the man with a slight smile. "Will you talk?" Thames questioned. "I'll talk," the man breathed quietly. He sounded more than defeated; he sounded ashamed. "I'll talk. No more. No more." "The code," Thames instructed. The man sighed slightly. He wetted his dry lips with his tongue as best as he could before speaking. "Phi five three seven two Omega." Thames smiled slightly. "Good. Now. Let's talk about something else, shall we?" He walked around the man, looking down at his prisoner. "Let's talk about Dr. Samuel Beckett."