A door opened from a corridor outside the room. Standing on the threshold was a lean, suave-looking man with hair the color of new steel. His active gray eyes and smooth skin challenged any estimate of his age. Beside him stood an old-style Teacher-model compy with a dull body casing.

The man studied Raymond with a calculating smile, but the compy spoke first. “My estimate of the duration of the stun pulse was accurate to within ten minutes, Chairman Wenceslas.”

“Excellent, OX, considering you had to guess so many important parameters.”

Recognizing the man’s name, Raymond clamped his mouth shut to prevent himself from making indignant demands. Such protestations would make him look foolish and helpless, and these people would tell him whatever they wished, whenever they wished. Warily, he bided his time, meeting the Chairman’s intent gaze.

Wenceslas gave Raymond a thin-lipped smile. “Very good, Peter. You’re exercising some restraint already, even without training.” He turned to the compy. “OX, you will have a very good student here.”

Raymond’s head still pounded. “Who’s Peter? My name’s Raymond Aguerra. I live—”

Wenceslas held up a well-manicured hand. “Peter is the name we have chosen for you. It’s best if you get used to it from the start.”

The old Teacher compy came forward with heavy but precise steps. “I am aware, Peter, that the aftereffects of a stunner are physically unpleasant. I have an analgesic injection, or if you prefer, a sweet-flavored syrup containing the same medication. I would not want discomfort to distract you from the important business Chairman Wenceslas wishes to discuss with you.”

Raymond recoiled at receiving medication from these people. He still didn’t know why they had brought him here or why they were interested in him. But again, he bit back an outcry, thinking his situation through. He had been here helpless in this chamber, stunned unconscious. They could have poisoned him or drugged him at any point. Why would they wait for him to wake up and then drug him again? Who would benefit, if he insisted on remaining miserable?

After a careful pause, he said, “Which one acts faster? I need to get rid of this headache.”

OX came to the side of the bed. “The injection should take effect almost immediately. I will try to make it as painless as possible.” The small compy reached forward with a metal hand. Before Raymond could even look down, a tiny needle danced out of the fingertip and into his arm. Raymond was more startled than hurt by the act. He rubbed his arm, but could feel no residual sting. As the Teacher compy had promised, the pain began to diminish within seconds.

“My name is Raymond,” he said again, drawing a deep breath. “Why have you brought me here? What do you want?”