Rhodes faced the agonies of alien torture
because he knew the secret which held an entire
world in bondage. It was a secret proclaiming—
Forever We Die!
By C. H. Thames
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
August 1956
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The guard spat in Phil Rhodes' food bowl, closed the grate, and trudgedaway down the stone-walled corridor.
Darkness returned to the narrow, coffin-shaped cell. Rhodes reachedfor the bowl of gruel. It was tepid, not hot. The cell was very cold.In the square of light admitted briefly when the grate had beenopened, Rhodes had seen the big, unkempt guard's breath, a puff ofsmoke on the cold air. He had also seen the guard hack spittle into thebowl of gruel.
It was no whim on the guard's part. Rhodes grinned wryly, and realizedhe was doing so, and encouraged his facial muscles in the act. Nothingaround here was a whim. Absolutely nothing. It was all part of a plan,and the purpose of the plan was to break Rhodes.
Given: one Earthman.
Problem: to degrade him by subtle psychological torture.
Purpose: a big, fat question mark which, by itself, was almost enoughto drive Rhodes crazy.
He ate the gruel. He held his breath and got it down somehow, got itdown because he had to.
It had been some time since the last question period, and Rhodesexpected to be summoned momentarily. Why me? he thought for thehundredth time. That was part of it, too. Why Rhodes? He was only astudent at the Earth University at Deneb III, here on Kedak now—thatwas Deneb IV—to do field work in extra-terrestrial anthropology. Andthe Kedaki had come for him one night, how long ago? Rhodes had noidea how long it was, and that was part of the plan too. His sleep wasirregular, usually disturbed by one or another of the guards as partof the overall pattern of psychological torture.
Rhodes began to shiver. It was growing suddenly cold. Naturally, thatwas no accident. The cell was very small and so shaped that Rhodescould neither recline fully nor stand up without jack-knifing hisspine. Obviously, he couldn't engage in much physical activity to keepwarm. The Kedaki knew this: it was part of the maddening plan.
Rhodes shook with cold, felt the skin of his face going numb, heard histeeth chattering. The abrupt cold now was his entire universe. He madean effort of will—you're warm, he told himself, you're warm. His lipstook on that peculiar numb puckering sensation which meant, he knew,that they were blue with cold. He felt a welcome lethargy, then, asif the terrible cold were a bed of repose, the most comfortable, mostwonderful bed he'd ever had. He wanted to sink back in it, surrender toit.
If he did, if he surrendered to the blood-freezing cold, he would die.
No, he told himself. That was wrong. They wanted him to think he woulddie. But it was out of the question. If they'd wanted to kill him,there were easier ways. What they wanted was a state of mind. Theywanted terror, a simple animal fear of death.
You're not going to die, Rhodes told himself. They need you—forsomething. They're very good at making you think so, but you're notgoing to die.
A sudden blast of hot air belched into the freezing cell.
It was Turkish-bath hot, and it dissipated the cold at once. It wasstifling. Rhodes, who was sitting awkwardly because the cell wasconstructed for minimum comfort, opened