brought into a sterile white room that was made stark by a bright light. It took her a moment to realize that it was the same room where they had awakened her from cryostasis. The doctors were already waiting on her. She recognized the Siirocian woman from when she had been brought out of the pod. She would never forget those eyes of crushed red velvet. The doctor was wearing a veil this time.
“Do you remember me?” the Siirocian asked after the table had settled into position. She had a slightly odd accent, different from Vorcia’s. It was a clean and pronounced dialect. “I remember you.” Rhylie was cut off before she could respond. “You killed my colleague. My mate. My lover.” The voice had none of Vorcia’s melodic quality, and the threat was clear. Rhylie was suddenly afraid.
“Where is the Empress?” she asked desperately. The doctor smiled in response, her mouthful of needled teeth on full display.
“Her Eminence won’t be joining us. She doesn’t have the…resolve for this part of the process,” she said, almost murmuring. Rhylie’s heart began racing in her chest.
“What do you mean? What are you going to do to me?” Rhylie asked, her voice panicked. She struggled against her bonds in vain.
“Why, we’re going to attempt to rehabilitate you dear,” said the doctor before shrugging. “But I have my doubts about the probability of success.” She smiled again, menacingly.
“I…I want to be rehabilitated,” Rhylie said. “Please help me. I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry.” The smile disappeared.
“Not sorry enough, my dear” the physician said, barely whispering loudly enough for Rhylie to hear. Her blood went cold.
“No,” Rhylie started to say but she was cut off again.
“Remove her clothes,” the doctor ordered and two of the other physicians in the room moved to obey. They were more gentle than the soldiers had been, but they still managed to nick and scrape her up some in the process with their rough hands and sharp fingernails. Her favorite pajama bottoms and t-shirt were discarded somewhere out of sight. Her nipples pebbled in response to the cool air, and she squirmed as she tried to close her legs, but her bonds would not allow it. She felt vulnerable and exposed again, but this was somehow worse.
“What kind of rehabilitation is this?” Rhylie asked as she finally settled down on the table. She continued to struggle sporadically against her restraints.
“Before we can begin the rehabilitation process, we must perform some tests on you. We must know your capabilities before we even attempt it.
“What sort of tests?” Rhylie asked. This was going from bad to worse quickly.
“Just a series of biological and psychological parameter checks, to make sure you are healthy…and sane,” the doctor said.
“What?” she asked. She didn’t like being talked about as if she were some sort of ship undergoing diagnostic maintenance.
“Let’s test your pain thresholds, shall we?”
“W-what?” asked Rhylie.
“Biosync her nervous system,” the doctor commanded.
Hairlike, white tendrils emerged from the table and slid into her skin along the length of her spine with a slight prickling sensation. Rhylie’s mouth opened, and her eyes widened in response as an icy chill traveled up her back and shoulders, spreading to her extremities.
“Initiate Epidermal Overload Level Ten, Simulation Fire,” the doctor said and pain flared throughout Rhylie’s body, sending spasms of agony through her in waves and torrents. Blisters arose on her skin, covering her body from head to toe. She could feel them on her face, her breasts, her thighs. Each one felt like a searing hot coal burning into her flesh.
Screams howled forth unabated from her mouth, gurgling and raw as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body twisted like a ribbon on the wind as it was wracked with convulsions. The blisters began to burst, spewing forth clear, watery fluid as the pain grew
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