Ferry, warned of her approach, had gulped too many ‘wake-pills and had been a jittering mess when she found him. She had dressed him down in fury which had surprised even her, and had removed the last of his Colony liquor supply.

At least, she hoped it was the last of it.

I have to do something about these nightmares.

Some details remained unclear upon waking, but she knew she dreamed of blood and her most tender flesh peeled back by dozens of needlenosed instruments—all of this backed by the feverish glitter of Morgan Oakes’ smile. Oakes; thick-lipped smile . . . but Murdoch’s eyes. And . . . somewhere in the background . . . Lewis laughing.

She found pieces of her bedding, an intact cushion, pulled them together and, still in the dark, dragged herself across the cubby to a mat. Only once before had she felt this beaten, this empty . . . this helpless.

The Scream Room.

It was why she had run the P—to regain some pieces of her self-respect. Self-respect regained . . . but no important memories.

What happened in that room? What kind of a game is Morgan playing? Why did he send me in there?

She remembered the preliminaries. Innocent enough. Oakes had given her a few drinks, left her with a holo canister which detailed as he put it, “a few of the treats available to those who can afford them.”

He had begun by showing her technical summaries and graphs of the work Lewis was doing on E-clones. The drinks fuzzed her thinking, but most of it remained in memory.

“Lewis has made remarkable modifications in the cloning system,” Oakes said.

Remarkable, indeed.

Lewis could grow a clone to age thirty annos in ten diurns.

He could engineer clones for special functions.

It had occurred to her as she watched the holo display of Lab One’s clones that she could begin playing this game with Oakes, but that they must switch to her rules.

I didn’t even know the game!

When Oakes had suggested she inspect Lab One, she had not suspected that he wanted her to . . . that she was expected to . . .

Nothing is sacred!

The thought kept returning. She breathed in a deep lungful of the sweetly filtered shipside air. How different it was from groundside. She knew she was wasting time. There were things she must remember before returning to Oakes.

He believes he has nothing to fear from me now. I had better keep it that way.

His powers were not diminished. But after all he had done to her, after the Scream Room, she still felt that she was the only person who knew him well enough to beat him. There would be no opposition from him as long as he did not consider her a threat . . . or a challenge.

As long as he wants my body . . . and now that I know the game we’re really playing . . .

Anxiety began to build in her—the nightmares . . . the lost memories . . .