A Thousand Words For Stranger (10th Anniversary Edition) by Julie E. Czerneda

sliding upward in an unpleasant smile. “And their results better be interesting, or we won’t see each other again. Now go with the Tulis. They won’t harm you,” a raised brow, “unless you provoke them.”
    I reluctantly began walking through the doorway. One Tuli waited until I passed then took my elbow. I felt a sharp prick in my upper arm and twisted around, struggling against its hold. “What was that?” I shouted. “What did it do to me?” I couldn’t take my eyes from the now-empty syringe in the Tuli’s hand, my erratic memory supplying me with an appalling list of exotic drugs.
    Kort’s head came forward, a clinical interest giving a false sparkle to his lackluster eyes. “Captain’s standing orders,” he said with distinct relish. “Roraqk hates mindcrawlers. He has all our guests given a little something that numbs that particular gift. Ask me, waste of good money, especially for port trash. But I don’t argue the point, you understand.” A Tuli put its dry furred hand into mine, urging me farther into the room with an impatient, though gentle, tug. “Don’t worry,” Kort added as the door began to slide closed. “Hasn’t killed any being—yet.”
    The door shut between us with a whisper, becoming a wall again in a room barely large enough to accommodate the Tulis and myself. Fortunately, we didn’t have to share it with any furniture. As I looked around, the floor beneath my feet began to sink, and I yelped with surprise.
    My silent escorts paid no attention to me, standing motionless, one on either side. Well, not quite motionless; their broad noses twitched furiously. I’d forgotten the smell of my clothing long ago.
    The lift opened into a long hall, its walls pierced by openings aglow with the bronze transparency of force fields. I could hear sobbing, quickly muffled. My mouth went dry and the steadying breath I drew caught in my throat. A hand pressed my back. I stepped out.
    I walked ahead of the Tulis, leading our small procession the length of that dreadful corridor, trying not to wince as we passed each cell. Each held its captive; few were young, and more than half nonhumanoid. I didn’t see the Neblokan and wasn’t sure what that meant about his fate. Some of the prisoners looked up with dulled incuriousstares as we passed; none spoke beyond the occasional hushed complaint.
    I wasn’t given time to ponder their future or my own. The corridor widened into a bulb of a room, lined with sophisticated equipment, the walls broken at regular intervals by closed doors. A Tuli opened one of these and handed me the same white robe worn by the wretches in the cells. Eyeing the muscular shoulders and impassive faces of my captors, I entered meekly enough, to re-emerge stripped save for the loose garment. My treasured coveralls were tossed into a disposal chute, and I thought the Tuli who did it looked relieved. I nursed what small strength of rebellion I had as gooseflesh rose on my arms, even though the room was too warm.
    One of the Tulis pointed to a bench positioned under a complex machine. It was the bravest thing I remembered doing—to climb up and lie there, waiting.

INTERLUDE
    The feel of a warm sharpness along one’s throat was a decidedly unpleasant way to end a deserved moment of peace, Barac decided, holding his mind and body motionless. He opened his eyes with a careful lack of haste. Now what?
    “An unexpected pleasure, Clansman.” Jason Morgan’s piercing eyes met Barac’s—their expression scarcely less icy than that low voice. “I trust you’ve been enjoying yourself.”
    “I’ve slept better,” Barac countered, shoving away the Human’s unresisting knife hand. The Clansman sat upright and glared. “Hell of a way to wake a guest.”
    The knife caught a gleam of light before Morgan turned off the blade and made the handle disappear up the right sleeve of his faded blue coveralls. “Considering I locked the Fox up tight, you can’t blame me for being a