Posted this on Chatsubo, and even Backstage, but for some reason, I didn't think to put it here. YC 312, Ashab VIII-Moon 10 - Theology Council Tribunal.She was happy.He didn't know what happiness was.
Sihsa wasn't in the best of moods. He knew someone's head was going to roll for this sort of thing being allowed to happen on this station. He'd prefer it not be that of his lovely assistant, who had brought him the news. But, such is the lot in life of a messenger.
"What can you tell me about it?"
"True Amarrian male, aged three-hundred and fifty-six. Genetically ID'd as one Lord Kinlas Terab, Terab Estate Holder, Ashab IV. Became an Imperial Navy capsuleer in YC 107. Missing since YC 112. Found on-station here in a private residential level, leased for two centuries in 112. Paid in full up front. Lease ran out yesterday, no contact with the purchaser since the time of contracting. Landholder went in today, found the scene."
"Tried tracing it. Routs through a half dozen Khanid banks, then into the CFU, and then through the GIB, whose owner there apparently never existed."
"....How long has he been there?"
"We... don't know. There's not much left of him. Bone structure's fine, all of the muscles in the upper and lower extremeties are completely atrophied though. Can't move his head, his hands, legs, anything. Won't be talking to us, either. Survived on an IV nutrient drip."
"...If I had to guess, I'd say it could very well be up to the entirety of those two centuries the lease has been active, sir. We did, also, take two slaves in for questioning, who had been functioning as his... 'caretakers', I guess, though it makes me sick to call them that. They'll be terminated after the Council's inquisitors are done with them."YC 262.
"Brain activity is at a minimum, Mistress. Vitals are still fine other than that. I... don't think there's much going on up there, anymore."
He hadn't had a thought in years. Just blankness. He couldn't register the presence of the people who came in, like clockwork, twice a day. Sometimes they'd change the IV, and he'd be stabbed with a new needle somewhere else. Didn't even feel it anymore.
So quiet. Time passed so slowly here.YC 212.
"Change out the slaves. These two are much too old to properly handle it anymore. Make sure the new ones can't speak. Don't really care how you do it, just they can not be able to speak a sound around him."
He'd had to have a lung replaced ten years ago. They hadn't bothered to give him any anesthesia. Not as if he could scream anyway. It kept hurting for so long, that terrible feeling of the knives and lasers cutting through him. All he could do was stare up, at that perfectly clean, off-white ceiling, as they ripped him open.
He hated them for what they were doing to him, for the pain he was going through. But even more than that, he hated himself, for being grateful to them for giving him something to feel, to focus on, to let himself know he was still alive.YC 162.
He had noticed something. Little things, they were starting to slip. He was having trouble remembering things. The smell of his wife's perfume. The color of his daughter's hair. Birthdays were starting to go. He wasn't sure how old he was anymore. Names.... names, names names what is my name, wait, no no no!
No sounds, no screams, so loud in his mind, but there and there only, his lips forever unwilling to let the words take physical form.
"He's been doing alright so far, Mistress. Brain activity has lessened some since the start. Muscles are pretty weak, obviously, but all major organs are still functioning. We'll have to start replacing them in a decade. Maybe two."
"That's fine. Do what you have to in order to keep him alive."
"Always and forever, Mistress."