Free Heretics by S. Andrew Swann Page B

that not only wouldn’t have been successful, but in Parvi’s opinion, never would have happened without Caliphate assistance and recognition of the Revolutionary government.
    Even as the Indi Protectorate withdrew from the debacle on Rubai, she had remained with a core resistance of ex-Federal forces about eight months past the point where it had been obvious that no relief was ever going to come to support the overthrown government. Rubai had been handed over to these bastards with only a token fight. She ended up wanted as a counterrevolutionary terrorist on her home planet, and in the Indi Protectorate she faced a court-martial for disobeying orders and remaining to assist the doomed Federal forces.
    So, she knew exactly what the Caliphate’s intentions toward this new planet were. She also knew what their intentions toward her would be. She might not be a high profile enough fugitive for them to go out of their way to hunt down, but she was important enough that if they had her in custody it was truly unlikely that they were going to let her go.
    Leaving her alone like this was probably an indication of what she could expect. The psychological operations had already started. Lack of contact, mobility, food, and water, the too-bright light.
    Inevitably, when the interrogator returned, she would be more likely to cooperate simply to prolong the human contact. Unfortunately, knowing what they were doing to her, and what they expected, didn’t lessen the effects. She could endure this for a while, maybe more than most, but of course it wouldn’t end here.
    In the end, what would they want from her? Some testimony against Mosasa? He had probably been destroyed as soon their Caliphate rescuers understood what he was. No, they’d break her, force her to renounce her support of the Federal Government on Rubai against the foreign separatists. Possibly make a propaganda holo just before they executed her. She also knew enough about psychological operations to know that when she did renounce her actions, she would be sincere.
    Each passing minute in isolation, alone in the featureless interview room, fed the growing conviction that she was not going to escape a demise at the hands of the same people who had razed her homeland. The same people who were going to take possession of this colony eighty light-years beyond what they could rationally claim as their sphere of influence.
    She could hear mechanical groans, even through the soundproofed walls. The uniform lighting flickered slightly.
    Her hands were fists, nails digging into her palms. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. Just thinking about them watching her now, planning her eventual humiliation, caused her pulse to race in her neck.
    I’ve gone soft.
    She had spent a long time doing mental exercises to calm herself. Now that her facade was starting to crumble, and fatigue and despair were bringing her emotions to the surface, her captors should be ready to resume their interrogation. They would have her closely monitored, and there was little chance they’d miss her body finally giving in to the stress. Her discipline had worn away a lot earlier than it should have.
    But then, where were her captors?
    She looked up at where the door to the room was, hidden behind the omnipresent glare. The lights flickered again, enough that she could barely see the seam that formed the edge of the entry.
    Beyond that door would be a station where someone would be watching the throb of her pulse, the spike in her fight-or-flight responses, the shifts in her body language. “Where are you?” she whispered to the door. Her lips cracked with the effort, the elevated temperature and lack of humidity under the lights making her mouth sandpaper-rough.
    No response came from beyond the glaring walls, not even an echo.
    â€œGames,” she whispered. “They want games.”
    She knew she wasn’t thinking particularly clearly any more, but she