Planet of Pain
inside her, biting and clawing at her flesh, and so the whole awful business started again; except that now she was no longer a mere observer, but the victim.
    Jo and her fellow trainees had received instruction in counter-interrogation, back at the Academy. They hadn’t taken it all that seriously: no one thought it could happen to them. The one exception was Gemma Brogan, round-eyed and anxious, afraid of what might be done to her, as a woman. ‘Just be grateful you don’t have testicles,’ Instructor Red had said; and all the men in the class sniggered.
    Now, as pain gnawed at her, Jo wished with all her heart she had paid more attention. She remembered their tutor talking about a technique he called retrogression, in which the victim turns his or her awareness inwards. It was possible, he maintained, to cut off all sensory information, including pain. They had been made to practice it, right there in the classroom; and Jo tried to apply it now but it soon became clear that it was utterly impossible. Pain was everywhere, swamping her. Pain was all there was – how could she possibly hope to shut it out?
    Relief, when it came, was pitifully brief. A few heartbeats, a few laboured breaths only and Tucker was raising the baton once more.
    â€˜The code, lieutenant,’ he said, and before she could respond he pressed it inside her again.
    â€˜Oh…’ she whined, ‘please stop… aahhh… I can’t think!’
    â€˜Don’t think. Just answer.’
    The interrogation proceeded. Next to be targeted were her breasts. He concentrated on her nipples and she remembered his comment about how sensitive they were. She pleaded with him, sobbing, but he was unmoved. The pain went on and the questions went on, till she thought she’d go mad.
    And throughout that long, terrible hour, despite everything they did to her, part of her mind somehow remained sane. It was ashamed of her weakness, this other self. It despised the tears that coursed down her cheeks, her pathetic cries, her spasmodic jerking and twitching.
    The baton moved back to her groin once more and the copper tip sought out her clitoris. The pain was worse than ever and she shrieked. It felt as is someone had pushed a fishhook through that sensitive nub, and was tugging on it with all his might.
    â€˜Doesn’t like it there, does she?’ she heard the sergeant say.
    â€˜They never do,’ Tucker replied.
    But even as he said it sight and sound grew dim, and the pain fell miraculously away. For the second time in a matter if hours Jo lost consciousness.
    Â 
    Â 
    Â 
Chapter 4
    Â 
    Admiral Talmann was in com, seated at a spare station, reviewing the messages received in the past hour. Four Alliance scout ships had been captured to date, the destroyer Lancer having scooped up the latest just minutes ago. The crew – one male, one female – had committed suicide rather than be taken, which was a great pity. Under normal circumstances Lancer’s captain would have been hauled over the coals for such negligence, but this was hardly a normal situation. Talmann had more on his mind at present than the loss of a Reiver crewwoman.
    Four ships, three females taken alive in all, and still no sign of Nielsen. But he was coming, Talmann was certain of that; the admiral was too long in the tooth not to recognise a smoke screen when he saw one.
    â€˜Incoming message from Dauntless , admiral,’ one of the signallers said, ‘priority one.’
    â€˜Decode it and route it to my screen,’ Talmann said. It appeared in seconds – men worked twice as fast when their commander’s eye was on them – and he scanned the message quickly, then read it again more slowly, frowning as he did so.
    â€˜Something wrong, sir?’ Sam, his ever-vigilant shadow, enquired.
    Talmann nodded. ‘Hendricks informs me that the women haven’t broken. It seems my insistence they suffer no permanent
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