Orbital

Sixty-Four Necessary Measures

I never thought of myself as a cruel man. In fact, I thought myself the opposite. Internet videos of people falling on ice, getting kicked in the balls by horses or anything else where someone is obviously in a state of discomfort never appealed to me.

On the other hand, I like a good revenge movie just as much as the next guy. When the writers set it up where the hero is perfectly justified to go on a rampage, it feels cathartic.

What I’m about to do to Attwell doesn’t feel cathartic. He murdered Ling, came close to killing me once and nearly did again along with Samantha. Yet, I just have contempt for the man, not a blind rage.

Maybe that makes it easier. It’s a process. There’s a series of steps I’m about to follow to get a desired outcome. The goal is information — information about a faceless person I do have a blinding rage to hurt.

Attwell’s suffering is just a byproduct to accomplishing that. I see him as a weak man that allowed himself to be manipulated to the point that he would hurt innocents. It wasn’t his goal, just an unintended outcome of a character defect.

I unlock the hatch and push his paralyzed body out of the way. His eyes follow me as I open the glass door to the plasma window. The field is glowing bright purple as it holds back the atmosphere inside the chamber.

“I read your file on this. From what I understand, you’ll experience a high-voltage tingle, but nothing like an electrocution.”

I grab his wrist with my gloved hands and stretch out his first finger.

“What are you doing?” he slurs.

“Just the tip. We’re going to do just that first. The window isn’t large enough for your body, so I have to make do with body parts.”

There’s a faint jerk in his arm as he manages to spasm, but fails to pull away.

“Apparently you’ll feel everything with this drug. But the best part is going to be later when it wears off. My joints still feel like they’re on fire.”

I bring his fingertip to the edge of the field. Inside my gloves there’s a static sensation.

“You can’t do this.”

“Of course I can.”

“It’s not legal…”

“Guess how many fucks I give about that?”

I push his finger all the way into the field, it’s like shoving your hand through a plastic bag until it breaks.

Attwell clinches his teeth and groans.

“Cold? Isn’t it? That sensation of all your blood rushing into your finger, like it wants to burst? Imagine feeling that all over your body? That’s what you did to me. But of course your body won’t explode. That’s just for movies. Here it just happens on a cellular level.”

“Damn you!” he growls in agony.

“Let’s take a look.”

I pull his wrist back and raise his finger for him to see. It’s swollen to double its volume. Blisters start to form around the fingernail.

“Looks like you’ve got some fluid right under the skin. Let’s give it a moment then try this again? Will the ice crystals puncture through? I don’t know if anyone has ever experimented with re-exposure to vacuum.”

I grab his wrist and shove his whole hand through the field.

Attwell screams.

I mentally countdown:

5

4

3

2

1

Attwell is still screaming.

I pull his hand back. He has sausage fingers and bloated palms. A crust of blood has formed in the ruptured blister.

Tears are forming in his eyes, clinging to his lids in the zero-gravity.

I hold his hand up to his face. “Imagine that all over your body. That’s what you did to me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“I don’t care. I’ll heal. Ling won’t.” I squeeze the swollen knuckle below his fingertip.

Attwell bellows in pain.

“What did Ling experience? Was it like that? What happens when your whole head explodes on a cellular level? While you sat downstairs pretending to commiserate with the others, I was in here cleaning up his body. I bagged his body and wiped the blood off the walls because I didn’t think anyone should have to see a friend and a colleague like that.”

“I didn’t mean…” he says between seething groans.

“I helped Warren prepare the body for going back to Earth. Want me to tell you about the bloody shit stains in Ling’s pants? Want me to tell you about the distended intestine? Did you think it would be a quick death? It wasn’t. It took him a minute to die. He was a goner after the first fifteen seconds, but he didn’t pass out right away. He tried to hold his breath — and you know that only makes it worse.”

I push his arm back towards the plasma field and hold it for a moment.

“Here’s a fun fact: While Warren thinks himself an expert on vacuum exposure, I actually hold the world record for witnessing other people die from it in space.

“The first time was Peterson, the astronaut that went up with me to the Korolev. She actually sacrificed her life so I could stop what your boss was trying to help the mad Russians do.”

I push the hand through again.

Attwell screams even louder.

I pull it back out.

“Why would anyone willingly do that to their self?”

“For Peterson it was because she was trying to save lives. Mine…millions of others. What are you trying to save?”

I check the watch on my suit then tap the hard-drive in his pocket.

“In six minutes you’ll be dead anyway. So what difference does it make what I do to you?”

I grab him by the back of the neck and push his face towards the purple glow. Blue arcs of electricity dance around his face.

“Please!”

“I’ll make the first one quick. Just a second or two.” I grab his jaw and pull it open. “Remember, don’t hold your breath.

“Please…”

“Stop talking. I don’t want you to die on this one. Just open wide.”

“There was a man…”

“I don’t care right now.”

I push his forehead into the glowing field and his hair begins to stick out from the static.

He pleads, “I kept notes! I have a journal! I tried to figure out everything I could! I have a name!”

“I’ll find it later.”

I push the top of his head into the field.

“Why? I’ll tell you everything!”

“I have to. If I don’t show you how much I can make you suffer you’ll never believe me when I tell you how much I’ll make you hurt if you’re lying or you don’t come through.”

His scream is silenced when I push his head all the way into the aperture.

He’s only there a half-second.

In and out.

But it’s enough.

When I pull him back, his eyes are bloodshot and the tears have formed crystals of ice in his sockets.

He gasps as he tries to fill his lungs with air.

“You’ll live,” I tell him. “You don’t deserve to. But you will. You’re going to do everything you said you would. This person, the one you’re going to help me find, he’s the least of your worries. He’ll just want to kill you. I want to make you suffer.”