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Updated: August 18, 2024
And he knew it hadn't been a nightmare, but reality. Full recollection flooded over him. Someone had shot him with a beamgun, that nasty little handweapon that delivered in one powerful, short jolt the same energy that was doled out in measured doses over a period of minutes in a standard nerve-burner.
He could already feel the terrible pain of the nerve-burner coursing through his body a jolt every ten seconds for two minutes, like a whip lashing all over his body at once. His only satisfaction was the knowledge that he had sentenced Kraybo to ten minutes of the same thing.
He was thirty-five now, and his nerves should be under better control than they had been at twenty. He wondered if there were tears streaming from his eyes, and then decided it didn't matter. At least he wasn't crying aloud. Of course, he had screamed in the nerve-burner; he had screamed thirteen times.
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