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Slipping both arms underneath the prisoner's, the guard heaved him to his feet.
A sensation as of stabbing needles tormented outraged muscles as the Human
forcibly walked Ranji in circles to rush feeling back into his legs.
"I hope they decide you are Human."
"Why?" Ranji's grunts of discomfort elicited no sympathy from the man.
"Because then maybe we'll have the chance to meet up with each other another
day, when you won't have whining rats and lizards to protect you."
Able to stand on his own now, Ranji shook himself free of the other's grasp. "I
look forward to it," he replied placidly.
As the guard recovered his weapon he responded to the challenge with an utterly
heinous, completely lurid Human response: he grinned.
Heida Trondheim was among those who now crowded the hallway. Ranji gazed
thoughtfully in her direction as the guard nudged his spine with a rifle butt.
"I'd love to spend some time alone with you, friend, but your keepers are
getting anxious. Let's move it. And if you try anything again, if you so much as
look funny in rny direction, I'll stun you right where it hurts. Assuming our
equipment is similar in that respect as well."
Surrounded by wary, armed Humans and Massood, Ranji was marched back to the room
from which he'd taken brief but exhilarating flight. This time they were careful
to shut the door behind him.
Once back inside Trondheim came close. "It's all right. I don't blame you.
You've been severely traumatized." She tried to put her hand on his shoulder but
he shook her off. Hurt, she resumed her seat.
Once again he found himself surrounded by a roomful of curious gazes. "Go ahead.
Show me all the pictures you want. Though if your intent is to amuse me there
are simpler ways. But don't think you can ever convince me that I'm something
I'm not."
The tall woman was shaking her head slowly. "You're Human. Like it or not, the
evidence is overwhelming. If anything, that little outburst of yours just now
confirms it. No Ashregan, no matter how altered or enhanced, could've gotten
that far."
"Truly he is right." Attention shifted to First-of-Surgery. The elderly
Hivistahm appeared to have handled the unpleasant episode well. "I do not think
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we will with words and pictures convince you," he told Ranji. "Your conditioning
too ingrained is, too much a part of you. We will have to something more do."
"Go ahead," Ranji taunted him. "It won't make any difference."
Double eyelids blinked over snakelike pupils. "Truly I beg to differ.''
Chapter Eleven
He never knew how or when they slipped him the anesthetic. It might have arrived
in his drink, or his food, or the air of his apartment. When he sensed the
impending clutch of lugubrious drowsiness he tried to fight back, screaming
imprecations and pounding the walls in a futile attempt to stay awake.
As awareness faded he found himself wondering why they suddenly felt the need to
render him unconscious. Perhaps they planned to move him to another installation
and, mindful of his recent outburst, were taking no chances. Considering his
state of mind and demonstrated capabilities, he wouldn't have taken any chances
when moving him either.
He appreciated the fact that oblivion came painlessly, but then Omaphil was a
civilized place. He wondered how he would've been treated on the Human homework!
That disagreeable thought was the last he recalled before sliding into a sleep
of abyssal dimensions.
A great many individuals were gathered around view-screens scattered throughout
the installation and elsewhere on Omaphil. The Surgery itself was uncrowded.
First-of-Surgery was among those present, not to perform but to advise and
observe. He had been teaching for so long that he no longer felt in possession
of the necessary skills required to supervise the delicate operation. But he had
been associated with the study from the beginning and realized that his presence
would be a comfort to the others.
Another First-of-Surgery would handle the actual mechanics in conjunction with a
highly experienced O'o'yan. Together they represented the zenith of Weave
medical accomplishment.
Save for a single exception, interested Humans were excluded from the Surgery
itself. While it was to be performed on a Human brain, no Human physician could
have hoped to duplicate the sureness of movement and delicacy of touch possessed
by Hivistahm or O'o'yan. They could only watch and envy.
Though everyone involved exuded confidence and expectation, an undercurrent of
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