Free Hero! by Dave Duncan Page A

the other boys would find her attractive. Not a machine, for sure.
    He has no clothes on, but he stands at attention because of those metal tags on her shiny white shoulders. She is taller than he is.
    She is studying a handcom she holds, and ignoring his nudity. That sort of thing never worries him anyway. All he can think about is that he is leaving Doggoth. The austere little room is damned chilly for bare ass, though.
    “Interesting,” she says. Then she turns her black-on-yellow gaze on him. “You are a very remarkable specimen, Crewboy. Medically remarkable, I mean.”
    With that complexion she couldn’t blush, and he wasn’t going to. If that was what she meant, she was wasting her time. It wasn’t too likely she meant it that way, anyway.
    “Ma’am.”
    She shrugs. “You are scheduled to participate in a mind bleed. Do you understand what is involved?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” He means he has a rough idea, and he suspects it’s nasty, but he will do anything to leave Doggoth. Anything.
    “I am required to certify that you are acting from free choice, that you understand that this procedure is not within standing orders, and that you may refuse to proceed without any prejudice to your record.”
    When an admiral wants it? Ha!
    “I understand, ma’am.”
    She looks him over doubtfully, and her fleshy lips move into a hint of a smile. “I think you’re lying your head off, Crewboy, but you’re on record now.”
    “Ma’am,” he says automatically, and wishes they would get on with whatever it is.
    “It won’t hurt, but it will be unpleasant. We shave your head, you understand? And we drill holes in your skull.”
    Vaun says, “Ma’am!” a little less certainly.
    Now she is certainly amused. “Very small holes. Hair size. They’ll heal in a couple of days, and no harm done. Seven or eight of them. There will be another boy involved, and what happens to him is a great deal more unpleasant, but you will not be damaged.”
    She pauses, so he repeats his mantra again, “Ma’am!”
    She glances down at her handcom again, and rolls her eyes. “You are a cool one! All right, you can put your pants on.”
    She doesn’t move, so he doesn’t. She regards him again, hesitantly. “Crewboy…The worst part of this is what happens to the donor. You have to be close, so you’ll have to watch. It’s not nice at all. Just remember that nothing like that is happening to you.”
    This time he merely nods.
    She shrugs and turns as if about to go, then stops. She thumbs something on her handcom.
    “Crewboy…You know about booster, of course?”
    This big black girl is starting to irk him, leaving him dangling in a cold room like this. He is under an admiral’s orders now, well out of reach of any pry-finger medico’s powers, so for the first time in his whole life he can afford to be a little bit uppity. “‘Booster is the common name for the dietary supplement necessary for human metabolism on an alien planet, containing essential amino acids, vitamins, and trace elements, plus various therapeutic or preventative medications including antihistamine antidegrad—’”
    “Quite!” she snaps, shutting him off. The jet eyes flash. “You may need a few more shots, Crewboy, and I can really lean on a needle.”
    “Ma’am!” he says apprehensively.
    She chuckles. “You are about to receive your commission, I believe?”
    “Ma’am.” And leave Doggoth!
    “One of the privileges of being a spacer officer is that you get to adjust your own mix, you know. Except when on duty.”
    “Ma’am.”
    She nods thoughtfully, studying the information he cannot see, and he is suddenly curious. She holds all of him there, in that coal-black hand of hers. Everything human science can know about him is right there on her palm, and he wonders what it says that she finds so interesting.
    “You likely won’t ever need mood adjusters. Off the record, Crewboy…this is a very personal question, and you needn’t answer