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“It ain’t a dress. It’s a gown. I’ve been in the hospital.”

  “They wear dresses in the hospital, do they?” asked Tobias.

  Dagobert balled his hands into fists. Maybe he’d bash them around some. How would they like to laugh with no teeth?

  Tobias halted several meters from him. The others stopped behind Tobias. “Well, come with us, Dagobert,” the champion said.

  “Come where?” Dagobert said loudly.

  Tobias scowled. “Wherever I tell you, you idiot.”

  “You’re the idiot!”

  Tobias smiled cruelly. “Now isn’t that interesting. You’re insulting your commanding officer. Do you know the penalty for that?”

  Dagobert’s forehead furrowed with lines that deepened the longer he thought about it.

  “Punishment,” Tobias said. “Now hop to it, you dope. Do what I tell you.”

  Dagobert stopped scowling and raised his right hand, showing Tobias a long, thick bird finger. “Sit and spin,” the massive Merovingian added.

  Tobias flushed with color, and his grip on the baton tightened until his knuckles glistened white. “That’s it. Come on,” he told the others, rushing forward as he spoke.

  Embarrassment added to Dagobert’s frustration. He’d hated his paper slippers having rubbed away, and he hated this green gown with his ass hanging out. With a roar, he charged Tobias.

  Did the roar cause the champion to pause for just a microsecond? It was possible, as Tobias lost a half-step and another Merovingian charged a bit ahead. That Merovingian’s eyes bulged at the sound and fury of the roar. He began to swing his sap. Dagobert’s right fist smashed against the Merovingian’s face. The nose bone shattered, and the man’s head jerked back, catapulting him backward. It was a vicious and herculean blow. And it was possible the sight of it caused fear to wash through the other three.

  Tobias led them, and he hit Dagobert with the baton. The massive Merovingian roared again, swatted and punched around him. The others kept hitting back with the batons and saps, battering him with cruel, vicious blows. Before they laid him low, Dagobert took out another of their number. Then, he crashed onto the floor, landing on his hands and knees.

  Tobias should have given him another chance to obey the order. Instead, he and the other hit Dagobert repeatedly against the back of the skull, driving Dagobert unconscious onto the deck and finally ending the fight.

  ***

  Dagobert groaned as he woke up. His head hurt horribly and he found it difficult to blink. The last thing he remembered was…was… He didn’t know.

  A thin doctor with thick black glasses and a long nose stepped up to his medical cot. The man wore a white gown and held a slate. The doctor read the slate before regarding Dagobert.

  “How are you feeling?” the doctor asked in his reedy voice.

  “My head hurts.”

  “It’s wrapped with bandages.”

  Dagobert tentatively tried to feel his head, hearing clinking sounds. His wrists were shackled to an iron rail that circled the cot.

  “It’s for your own protection,” the doctor said.

  “Uh…why?”

  The doctor’s gaze slid away as if he was too embarrassed to explain.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Dagobert asked.

  “You were found in the corridors, with your skull fractured and in severe trauma. This is the third day since your surgery.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Two things,” the doctor said. “You obviously have enemies. Just as obviously, the Methuselah Woman—the Queen wishes you to not only survive…”

  “Yeah?” asked Dagobert.

  The doctor gave him a fast look before becoming absorbed with whatever was written on the slate. “Your brain had taken heavy trauma with pieces of shattered skull embedded in it—you have a fantastic constitution. By that I mean you can take a beating that would have killed others and still function. I don’t know why you’re not a vegetable or why you took so well to the healing therapy.”

  Dagobert scowled as his eyelids lowered. There was a pounding pain in his skull. It started at the front, zoomed to the back and rebounded to the frontal lobe again. He didn’t know it, but his scowling features froze.

  The doctor took off his glasses and leaned over Dagobert. “Can you hear me?”

  Dagobert did, but he was unable to answer. The lightning-like agony zigzagged back and forth across his brain. The process speeded up, and his frozen face seemed to ice into permanent stiffness.

  Help me! Dagobert screamed silently in his mind.

  The doctor must not have heard. He kept peering at his face, and the doctor had awful breath.

  “Oh my,” the doctor said. “This is bad.”

  He straightened, turned and spoke rapidly to someone Dagobert could not see. He did hear and understand the word, “Emergency.” Was the doctor talking about him?

  Dagobert wasn’t aware of the passage of time. It seemed like forever, but maybe it had only been a moment ago. The doctor with the onion breath peered over him again. The doctor spoke, and his words were slow and heavy. The doc’s face went away, and an angel peered over him. She was so stunningly beautiful—

  The Queen is looking at me, Dagobert realized. That brought life into his mind and seemed to lessen the pain zigzagging back and forth through his brain.

  The Queen pulled back and turned to the waiting doctor. “Will he die otherwise?” she asked.

  “I can’t say with surety—”

  “But doctor,” she said, interrupting him, “surety is what I demand. I will hold you to whatever you say next. And if you don’t have an opinion, I have no further use for you. Do you understand what that means?”

  “You’d turn me into a Merovingian?” he said softly.

  “Oh, so we do understand each other. Which state of being do you prefer, hmm?”

  The doctor tugged at his white lab coat collar as if he were hot. He removed his thick black glasses and wiped his sweaty forehead with a sleeve. “The experimental drug cerepentothal could help repair the brain damage. It could have unforeseen side effects, however.”

  “Such as?” she asked.

  “Heightened aggression and possibly speeded neural reactions,” the doctor said.

  “Neural. You mean he could think faster?”

  “In a manner of speaking, Highness. It’s possible the faster neuron firings would heighten his IQ.”

  “Cerepentothal is an intelligence enhancer?” she asked.

  The doctor took off his glasses and sleeve-wiped his forehead for a second time, putting his glasses back on. “Your Majesty, this is a highly experimental drug.”

  “Give him a double dose,” she said.

  The doctor glanced at the frozen Dagobert before regarding her again.

  “He’s a brute,” she said. “He has massive strength. I’ve been looking for a champion, one that can easily defeat New Men. Dagobert lacks brains. He is a physical specimen otherwise. Besides, those who beat him need a dire lesson.”

  “I don’t understand, Majesty.”

  “What part?”

  “T-The dire l-lesson,” the doctor stammered.

  “I do, however. Give Dagobert a double dosage and then shock him into life.”

  “But the previous damage to his brain—”

  The Queen raised a hand, silencing the doctor. Then she glanced at Dagobert. “It’s a long shot, I grant you. But I have so much to do, and I need someone impressive, mentally and physically, to take care of a situation for me. If Dagobert works out, it you can mutate him into a true super-soldier general…then you will gain in rank and status, my dear doctor. Isn’t that a worthy goal?”

  “You honor me more than I d-deserve, Highness.”

  “Nonsense,” the Queen said. “I honor and dishonor exactly and correctly how I wish. It is one of my defining characteristics. That’s the end of the matter, sir. Can you do it? Tell me: yes or no?”

  The doctor hesitated.

  �
�I see,” she said. “Well, my Merovingian Corps needs more warriors. I’m certain you will turn into a fine—”

  “It can be done, O Queen,” the doctor said quickly and with sudden ringing authority.

  “Truly?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “When?”

  “Ah…I need four days at the minimum.”

  “You have three.”

  “Highness,” he said, “I cannot alter the laws of physics. Four days at the minimum is all I can guarantee.”

  “The Merovingians need more warriors and you will—”

  “Four days, Majesty,” he said. “I can do no better.”

  A sly smile appeared on her wondrous features. “I grant you four days, Doctor. You had better be right.”

  “I will be,” he said.

  “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

  “I know.”

  She eyed him.

  For once, he did not look away, but held her gaze.

  She nodded and touched his right forearm. “I need a champion. Create him for me.”

  “I will.”

  She turned to go, perhaps thought better, and faced the doctor once more. “Tell me. Will the process be painful for him?”

  The doctor glanced at the frozen Dagobert. “He will scream and beg for it to stop. He might chew off his tongue. But if he’s tough enough, he could survive.”

  “That bad, really?” she asked.

  “Yes,” the doctor said.

  “Oh well,” she said. “One can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.” She leaned down and touched one of Dagobert’s frozen arms. “You’re going to go through hell for me, Champion. If you succeed, you may be able to enact vengeance against those who beat you like this. Would you enjoy that?”

  Dagobert strained, and he made the tiniest of grunts.

  The Queen straightened, smiling in triumph, turning to the doctor. “I await your success, Physician. Remember, though, what I do to those who lie to me when making promises.”

  The doctor swallowed painfully.

  On that note, the Queen departed.

  The doctor seemed to collapse inward, but he didn’t fall to the floor. Instead, he stared down at Dagobert. “You unlucky oaf, don’t you let me down.” Then, the doctor turned and hurried away.

  All the while, Dagobert lay frozen, wondering if it was really going to be as bad as all that.

  -25-

  Dagobert screamed in horror, in agony, and it repeated in his dreams with ghastly nightmares. The cycles lasted too long, exhausting him mentally, physically and spiritually. His identity plunged deep into his psyche, quivering in terror, debating giving up existence. In the end, a stubborn core refused to let go of life. One part of the core remembered the back-shooting sergeant of Star Watch. Dagobert could no longer remember the bastard’s name. Another piece of the core was the look on Tobias’s face when they had fought last. It had been a mixture of fear and hate. Dagobert thought he remembered looking up as he crouched on his hands and knees on the deck. He remembered a baton swinging down and cracking his skull.

  Revenge, the Queen had spoken about revenge. The concept was too advanced for the core of Dagobert. He simply would not let the others win because he quit trying.

  That was the beginning of the healing. How long it subjectively lasted was anyone’s guess. In real time, it took three days as Dagobert lay on a cot with hundreds of leads attached to his body and shaven scalp. A team of technicians watched him closely, at times stimulating his body and brain with electric shocks. His massive frame surged upward at those times. At others, he groaned like some God-judged and sentenced soul burning in the enteral flames of Hell. It was torment of the worst sort, but Dagobert endured, he held on.

  At the end of the three days, Dagobert opened his eyes as consciousness hazily returned. He was aware of a murmuring crowd. They spoke too low for him to hear, but he felt their undercurrent of excitement. At last, a thin doctor in a white lab coat and wearing thick black glasses approached him. The man was frightened but peered down at him with hope.

  “Dagobert Dan?” the doctor asked softly.

  “Yes?” Dagobert answered.

  The doctor stepped closer as perspiration glistened on his broad forehead. The man glanced at his slate, and his features changed to one of wonder.

  “What does your med-slate show you?” asked Dagobert.

  The doctor swallowed audibly before answering. “The rate of your neuronal firing has increased.”

  “Meaning what?” asked Dagobert.

  “Well…I should think several things,” the doctor said. “You’ll move faster, react faster, you might even think faster.”

  Dagobert stared down at his naked body. He was huge, muscular and— “You shaved the hair from my body.”

  “To attach the leads,” the doctor said.

  Dagobert glanced at his hands. They were shackled to the bed-rail. He raised his head and looked down at his feet. Someone had shackled his ankles too. He rested his head on the pillow, thinking. He glanced at the doctor watching him.

  “You’re afraid of me,” Dag said, as at that moment he mentally changed his name from Dagobert Dan to simply Dag, as he realized he was no longer that dumb brute of yesterday.

  “I’d rather think of it as being cautious,” the doctor said.

  “What?”

  “We’re cautiously optimistic the cerepentothal therapy was successful.”

  Dag did not reply right away as he considered the doctor’s words. “Cerepentothal is a drug?”

  “Yes.”

  “I remember something—neurons, my neurons fire faster.”

  “That’s right,” the doctor said.

  “I’m hungry,” Dag said as his stomach growled. “When do I eat?”

  “We’re going to run a few tests first.”

  “Better hurry then, doc. If you wait too long, I’m going to shit my bed and force you to cease testing.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  The doctor’s mouth opened. He closed it and tapped upon his slate. “This is a breakthrough. The Queen will—” The doctor whirled around, shouting with excitement at the technicians. He ran to them, shouting instructions.

  Dag waited, becoming aware that he no longer spoke as he used to. He watched the proceedings, assessing and biding his time—for what, he didn’t yet know. Something was different. He needed to put his finger on it before, well, before whatever decision he made next.

  ***

  Later, Dag drank water and ate beef slices and raw carrots. He donned comfortable garments and running shoes and went to an exercise chamber. He skipped rope, making it blur, punched a heavy bag and climbed a large wall with evenly spaced small holes, using two pegs. It was good to be doing something physical again.

  At the end, he showered, donned fresh clothes and was escorted by a five-man Merovingian team down the corridors to a room. Inside the room were books and a holo-vid stand. After he entered the room, the team left.

  Dag turned on the vid, finding the selection limited. It showed sitcoms, rather banal ones at that. He grew bored of the shows and went to the books. He paged through several, finally settling on one about a huge friendly dog named Buck. The dog traveled from a place called California to Alaska as he changed throughout the journey. The scene where the man in the Red sweater and club beat Buck caused Dag to grow uncomfortable. He found the tale absorbing, though, turning page after page.

  He stopped reading as a hatch opened. The Queen entered the room alone.

  Dag jumped to his feet, standing at attention. The Queen wore a tight-fitting black garment of synthetic leather. She had a stunning figure, gorgeous features and long dark hair. She had high-heeled boots and wore a white fur cape.

  “Dagobert Dan,” she said in a liquid voice.

  He dipped his head. “If it pleases the Queen, I wish you would refer to me as Dag.”

  “Oh?”

 
“It is part of Dagobert, but seems more appropriate.”

  “You feel different then?”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “Can you explain in what way?”

  Dag glanced at the book. He held it one-handed, with his index finger in the spot where he’d been reading. He frowned before looking up at the Queen. “I don’t think I’ve ever read a novel before.”

  “Could you read before?”

  He frowned more deeply. “A few words,” he said. A cold feeling worked through him. He shivered, and the book dropped from his hand. The sound startled him back to the moment.

  “The cerepentothal did this to me?” he asked.

  “It was part of the therapy,” the Queen replied.

  He cocked his head. “What were the other parts?”

  “Do you feel it is correct to interrogate your Queen?”

  “No…I suppose not.”

  She waited.

  “I ask for you to forgive my lapse of protocol—if you desire, O Queen.”

  “Amazing,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought it would work so fast and thoroughly. But it has. You even speak differently.”

  Dag said nothing, although he had a hundred questions.

  “You’re smarter, much smarter than you used to be,” she said.

  He began to nod.

  “The doctor said you would be physically quicker and possibly more aggressive,” she said. “I do not detect greater aggression, however. Perhaps your rise in intelligence has gentled your approach to life.”

  “Begging your pardon, O Queen, I don’t think that’s it.”

  She stared at him. “What then?”

  “I have undergone a terrible ordeal. I remember some of it. The ordeal has taught me caution.”

  “Because you fear to resume the ordeal?” she asked quietly.

  An impulse struck Dag, a thought. She was testing him, and she wanted a means to control him. If he admitted to the fear, she might use the ordeal over him to control his future actions. Yet, he dreaded undergoing anything similar. If he killed her, though—no, she must have a means to defend herself even in here alone with him. He didn’t think she was arrogant due to overconfidence, not in this room, in any case.