* * *
"Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen," a voice was saying far away. "Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen. Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen."
"He's coming back online," Dr. Martine said.
"It doesn't take long," a man with a smooth, pleasant voice answered. "He needs to recognate, then we can test the switch and see if we need to adjust the output."
"Thank you, Dr. Drummond. I'll stay with him if you want to grab a coffee."
"I'll take you up on that. I'll be back in ten. He should be fully aware by then."
The door opened, and a cool whisper of air slid over Quinn's skin. It closed with a quiet snap, and he woke up a bit more. He was? What was this? Where had they taken him? Restraints held his back flat against a table, but he was facing the floor. They'd removed his shirt, but not his pants or shoes. He stirred and discovered his arms were asleep and that the back of his neck, right above where it met his spine, hurt like he'd been cut open.
He tried to tell Dr. Martine he was awake, but all that came out was, "Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen."
Dr. Martine knelt at the head of the bed, so that he was underneath Quinn. "You can't answer me yet, but I know you can hear me and understand." He spoke barely above a murmur. "I'm so sorry. I wish I'd been able to save her, but things are dangerous for all of us right now. Attacking Maren was a stupid move, even if I do understand the motivation.
"From here on out, I need you to be a model citizen. That's going to go against everything you want, and I know I'm asking you to do something incredibly difficult. But Quinn, you can hide behind a dozen different masks, act a thousand characters. Do this for me. Don't be too contrite to raise suspicions, but do, over time, prove yourself more docile and compliant."
"Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen!" The words weren't what he wanted, but the tone came across.
"I know," Dr. Martine said. "But please, don't give up. I couldn't save her." His voice broke. "I won't lose you, too. You're our one hope now."
"Six, two?what?hope?" he forced out between clenched teeth.
Dr. Martine's eyes bored into his. "The Quad ordered you for reasons we don't yet know, but suspect. And there are some of us who think that absolute power isn't right. Whatever you think of me, or Doc, or even Maren, understand there is worse out there. Piers is only a faded example of the evil lurking in the wings. You cannot fall into their hands before you've been prepared. Before we know you're ready to keep from being used to ruin the lives of a lot of good people."
"Like?you?"
"No." Dr. Martine stared at the floor. "Not like me. Better people. Now, when Dr. Drummond comes back, your new pain switch will be tested, and it'll be excruciating. Don't fight. Bide your time. I won't be able to speak freely with you again after this. I have to distance myself, but know I'm watching-and hoping."
The doorknob creaked as it turned, and Dr. Martine rose. "Remember what I said."
Quinn didn't even have time to digest everything before Drummond asked, "Is he coherent?"
"Yes," Dr. Martine said. "Aren't you, Quinn?"
Anger swirled thick in his gut, but he managed, "Yes, sir."
"Very good!" Drummond sounded way too chipper for a man about to inflict pain on a bound subject, and Quinn curled his fists at his sides.
"We'll start with a low-level 'reminder' test. This will be for defiance and failure to follow commands."
A blink later, a glaring headache throbbed in Quinn's forehead, and he gasped.
"Good, good!" Drummond leaned down to look at him. "Yes, that worked well. I can see it by the way you're squinting. All right, next level is for rule breaking."
The glaring headache turned into a searing pain, and Quinn vomited lake water and the remnants of his lunch all over the floor.
"Ah, yes. That's partly why you're still upside down. No aspirating on my watch." The smile in Drummond's voice, like he was enjoying Quinn's discomfort and humiliation, was almost too much to take. "Last level. This is for attacking your handlers. Lay hands on Ms. DeGaul again, and you'll wish you were dead."
"I already do," Quinn whispered.
"Oh, not like this." Drummond's tone turned silky and dangerous. "Not nearly like this."
A bolt of agony flashed through Quinn's entire body, locking his jaw so he couldn't even scream to release his pain. He went rigid, and his eyesight flickered in and out. The last thing he said before passing out was, "Kill me. Please."
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