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Authors: Sylvie Pepos
"Enjoying the whole sordid mess!"
    Hael shrugged. "She watches all the reinforcements; you know that. The woman is not
    only a voyeur, she's a perverted voyeur."
    "Let's hope she isn't a murderous voyeur."
    Hael toyed with the remainder of her Chalean brandy. "How dangerous could it be for
    him tomorrow?"
    Beryla Dean released a heavy sigh. "Since he has never been given a full 100
    milligrams of the drug the Tribunal ordered, I don't really know. I made damned sure the
    neuro-boosters required for full reinforcement assault therapy were minimal. Otherwise,
    he would have had a full-blown psychotic episode. Thankfully, the psychotropic
    suggestionaries we administered instead have produced similar results without
    undermining our original intent."
    Hael smiled nastily. "I'd give my right teat to see the expression on Onar's face when
    he learns the Resistance was re-programming his Prime Reaper the entire time he thought
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    you were reinforcing Cree's training!"
    "Torturing the man, don't you mean?" Dean corrected. "That's all the assault therapy is and you know it. Reinforcement my ass!"
    Hael spread her hands in sympathy. "True, but he's a Reaper, Beryla. They were
    engineered to withstand massive amounts of pain."
    "Yes, but the psychological pain I gave that man will haunt me for as long as I live. It was brutal and it's damned near driven him insane!"
    "He is a Reaper," Hael repeated with a touch of annoyance. "A beast. Nothing more."
    Dr. Dean shook her head. "You keep forgetting he is half human, Hael! His father is
    my lover!"
    "True, but his mother was a Morrígú!"
    Beryla shivered. "I have not forgotten," she said.
    "And when he is in full Transition; when he is Dearg-Duls..."
    "Yes!" the Director hissed. "I know!"
    Hael sat back in her chair. "Then stop worrying. We know the suggestionaries worked.
    How could they not? Bridget is in no danger of being harmed; I have seen to that. I
    designed the subliminals you gave him and there is no way he could ever harm her even
    while in full Transition."
    A worried look entered Dr. Dean's eyes. "She doesn't know the whole of it, Hael."
    Hael's eyes narrowed. "And you had better be gods-be-damned glad she doesn't!"
    CREE WAS wide-awake when Bridget entered his cell to check on him. "Can't
    sleep?" she asked.
    "It does not appear that I can," he replied a little more sharply than he had intended. He scooted up on the cot. "I thought you had gone back to your quarters."
    "I had a lot of work to get done."
    "What? Sharpening your pendulum and oiling the hinges of the iron maiden?"
    Bridget laughed. "You've been reading Earth history."
    He laced his fingers together and put them behind his head. "An interesting period of
    history; your Inquisition."
    She cocked her head to one side. "Is that how you feel when you're in the treatment
    suite?"
    "I never can remember what went on although I have an intense feeling of anxiety
    when I leave there and even more anxiety when I'm being taken back. What happens to
    me when I'm being treated?"
    "I don't know," she answered truthfully. "The drugs stimulate all the hidden,
    subconscious fears for survival and brings them up in such a fashion you can't negate
    them. That much I do know. As for how it does that or what you actually feel, I can't say.
    I've been told that no amount of conditioning will forestall the onset of whatever catalyst
    is biologically engineered into your subconscious."
    He looked at her for a long moment then nodded slowly. "So what I'm undergoing is an
    intensification of any primal fears encoded into my DNA at my conception."
    "I believe so."
    He thought about that for a moment. "And this" he paused, trying to think of another word short of torture, then decided there was no other word. "...torture. What purpose
    does it serve?"
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