“But under the Geneva Conventions, as you know, you must first tell me your name, rank, serial number, and date of birth,” Zuwayy went on. “We’ll start with your name. That is not a violation of your oath as an American soldier. It is not a national secret. You won’t be disgraced or prosecuted by your government, I assure you. Most of your comrades have already told me this information, and that’s why they are no longer in here with you—they are being fed, they have seen a doctor, and they have even filled out their Red Cross contact cards.”

“Please, Your Highness .. . please, help me, I beg you....”

This was getting nowhere, he thought—the same mindless imprinted resistance babble for days on end. “Where is that band she was wearing?” Zuwayy asked.

The guard brought it to him. “We have determined it is some kind of power source,” the guard said. “We searched her body and found this.” He showed Zuwayy a device about the size of a tack. “It is some kind of transceiver. We checked it; it is deactivated. It may have been some sort of locator, perhaps even a communications device.”

“Did the others have it?”

“No, Highness. She could be valuable. ...”

“Or she could be a real danger,” Zuwayy said. “If she was missing, she’d be just another casualty—but here, she could destroy us if they found out she was alive.”

“Torture doesn’t seem to be working, Highness,” the guard said. “Maybe we should try nursing her back to health. We can always eliminate her later.”

“Perhaps . ..”

“Help me ... please, Highness, help me ... I beg you...

Zuwayy reared back and slapped her across the face with the back of his left hand. There was no blood—her face, in fact most of her extremities, had long ago lost the ability to bleed. “Stop begging to me, bitch! You disgust me, you weak sniveling American whore! What is your job onboard your ship—servicing the real warriors, the real soldiers? Are you the unit’s traveling whore? Why are we even bothering with this one? We won’t learn any information from prostitutes. Throw her disease-infected body into the trash with the other garbage.”

“Please ... please, help me....”

“Your name, whore,” Zuwayy snarled. “All I want is your name. First name, last name, it doesn’t matter. Is keeping that useless bit of information from us worth risking your life? When was the last time you felt your fingers? When was the last time you had a drink of water? We will give you proper medical care and start treating you like a human being and an American soldier instead of a stupid American cocksucker if you will only tell us your name.”

No response. She looked as if she might pass out—she was beginning to slump against her chains again. “One last time, bitch—your name. Right now.” Again, no response.