“A bare, windowless room whose only furnishing was an empty bucket. A ceiling hook had recently been installed here and my attendant gray man obligingly hooked me up to it. “There is little chance of my starving to death,” I told him. “Because I’ll die of thirst first.” He gave no spoken answer but he did return with a soft plastic water bottle and a standard Cliaand field ration. Not the world’s most inspiring food, but it would keep me alive. As I chewed and sipped I clamped hard o...n that last thought. Keep me alive. They would do anything except kill me. They wanted me, actually needed me. They knew that the Special Corps was breathing hot on their trail and they would have to exert an all-out effort to stop them. Kraj had talked big and half convinced me; I looked at my wrists and shuddered. He had convinced me. But why had he tried so hard? Because I was obviously more than a pawn in this game.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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