Fantasy Making of a Starship Captain

Ching raised his head. He saw the agony on Chang's face as he ran another lap. His limbs were listless. He was on the brink of exhaustion.

"It's you, Ping. You're the one doing this to him. I can forgive you for this, but I'm not sure Pong can," said Chappie. He held up his Pad. "Do it for the team, Ping. Remember, there is no 'I' in team. But there is an 'I' in Ping, isn't there, Ping? So give me your RFD."

"No Sergeant," said Ching, doing another pushup.

"I want your RFD!"

"No Sergeant!" Ching cried.

Chappie frowned and had them both switch positions. Now Chang was doing the pushups, and Ching was running back and forth.

"Pong, good to see you! We Chinese should stick together, shouldn't we?"

"Yes Sergeant!" Chang cried, as he did pushups.

"My feeling exactly, my boy!" said Chappie. "Now Pong, I just had a long and very candid talk with Ping. He's being most unreasonable. I told him if one of you gives in, that you won't have to spend the rest of the day and the night on this exercise field. But he still won't give in. He's being selfish. He doesn't care about your pain, Pong. But do you care about his? Do it for Ping, Pong. Give me your RFD."

"No Sergeant!" said Chang, pushing up all the ground.

"I got the two of you pegged, Pong," said Chappie. "You're both members of the Chinese Communist Party, of course, but you come from a family as rich as they come, one that makes pet food for American poodles made out of the ground up kidneys of political prisoners. Am I right, Pong?"

"No Sergeant!" Chang cried.

"Sure I am," said Chappie. "You're good communists, of course, but got rich exploiting the fuck out of the worker class, didn't you? Didn't you? And now you want to be Survey Service officers! But it would be so much easier if you went home! You could bathe in your family wealth. You could fuck whoever you like. You could find a Japanese whore with wide eyes and nuclear tits to satisfy all your needs. What do you say to that, Pong?"

"No, Sergeant!" Chang cried, as he did another pushup.

"You're becoming a grave disappointment, Pong," said Chappie, standing up. His wide brimmed hat cast an ominous shadow over Chang. "Chairman Mao, the party, your future whores... all are very disappointed with you."

Finally, Chappie got his first victim of the day. Cadet Anson Rutte.

Anson Rutte broke on the treadmill of death.

They had been running in the surf. It was especially wearying, because the water pulled at their legs as they sloshed forward. But Anson Rutte kept tripping and falling in the water. After the third time that happened, Sergeant Chappie called him out.

"Are you having some problem walking, Rutte?"

"The water is slippery, Sarge," said Rutte.

"I see," said Chappie. "Well, we can't have that. All right, Rutte, you can run on nice dry land. Run around the perimeter of the base."

"Thanks, Sarge! How many laps?"

Chappie raised an eyebrow. "Until further notice."

Rutte gasped,

"Get a move on!"

Rutte started running. He was still running even when the other cadets were relieved and allowed to get lunch.

He was still running after lunch when they were about to go to their classes.

"How long is he going to make him run like that?" Cherry Oteri asked.

"I've heard some of the upperclassmen taulking about it. They caull it the treadmill of death," said Joanna Martin. "They run them around the pereemetar for hours, and nevar tell them when it will end. It's fear that ends up breaking them, the fear that it will go on forevar."

As they came out of classes later in the afternoon they saw how it ended. Rutte was staggering now, barely walking. Chappie was at his side, waving his Pad. Rutte shook his head feebly. They heard Chappie yell, "Then you'll be doing this day and night!"

Rutte cried out and dropped to his knees. Chappie held out his Pad. Rutte extended his thumb.

And then it was done.

The treadmill of death had claimed its first victim.

Taylor continued to receive lessons in Starship Mechanics from Lieutenant Commander Sarah Blade... and other things. Their casual talks after each lesson became more personal. Sarah asked more and more probing questions about his personal life. Soon Taylor found himself discussing his failure with women.

Sarah listened quietly as he talked, occasionally asking insightful questions. She was a good listener, Taylor realized. "Mike... all these dates you went on that went nowhere, a lot of them seem to have something in common. You actually kissed the girl on these dates, right?"

Mike thought about it. "Much of the time, yes."

"Well, then there's your answer," said Sarah, shrugging. "You're simply not a good kisser."

"Not a good kisser?" said Taylor. "But girls say they are more interested in personality and-"

"Don't listen to what girls say, Mike," she said, gently caressing the back of his hand. She smiled at him as she saw the effect it was having. "Watch what they do. You failed over and over because you're a bad kisser, and no one's ever told you what you did wrong."

Taylor paused, considering. "Even if that's true, what can I do about it?"

Now it was Sarah's turn to pause and consider. "I suppose you could practice... on an apple, or a pear."

"Kissing a pear? What will that tell me?"

"Not much. You're right, Mike," said Sarah. "You need to kiss something that will give you feedback." She paused again, and wet her ruby red lips. "I know this is a little... irregular, but maybe I could help you in this regard."

"You?" said Taylor.

"I've grown fond of you in the past few weeks, Mike," said Sarah. "I know I shouldn't, but I feel like a protective mother around you. And every mother wants to see her little bird fly happily out of the nest. If you like, I could give you a few... pointers." Her green eyes were hypnotic. And the lust in them was as plain as day.

"I... I don't know," said Taylor.

"Well, why don't we try it once, and see? If you don't like it, we never have to do it again."

"Do it!" Lust cried.

"Don't! She's just trying to seduce you!" said Ambition. "This is the wrong path to go, Mike!"

"Just look at her. She's so blonde, so sexy, and willing! Mike, you can't resist."

Taylor couldn't resist. "All right... just one kiss."

"Just one," Sarah promised. "All right slugger, kiss me."

Taylor leaned forward and pressed his lips against Sarah. He intended to pull back quickly, but she grabbed the back of his head and pulled him towards her. He felt her very feminine body pressing against his. The warmth of her excited him. Suddenly he was no longer kissing her; she was kissing him.

Sarah grinded her lips against his, wanting, needing, taking. Her hands, which were on the back of his head, moved downwards, starting to caress his shoulders and his back in classic swirling Survey Service search patterns. Her touch was electric, making Taylor shiver. The feeling of her firm breasts pressing against his chest started to make him hard, down there.

And then... it was over.

Sarah pulled back, with a satisfied smile on her face.

"Wow," said Taylor, looking stunned.

"Nice?"

"Yeah," said Taylor. "How... did you do that?"

"Would you like me to show you again?"

"Yeah," Taylor smiled weakly.

She waggled a finger. "Come here, little boy. It's time for your second lesson."

"Being white is not a weakness."

Taylor was sitting in a bizarre class called "Tapping your inner strength". The teacher wasn't even a Survey Service officer. He was a Chinese, a real Chinese, unlike Sergeant Chappie. Or perhaps he was a Tibetan. Taylor wasn't exactly sure.

He said his name was Master Tan, and he was from a monastery located deep in the heart of Northern Tibet. He was a practitioner of something called Ju Chi, which Master Tan claimed could help them tap inner strength and do amazing things.

Master Tan looked to be about seventy years old. He was extremely skinny, and the only hair on his head was from two very dark eyebrows. He wore a set of black pajamas.

"You needn't have my skin color to do what I do. There are tremendous powers within you. Within all of you. The power to live within the moment. The power to harness all the strength of your body. The power to ignore all the forces exerted on you. Let me demonstrate each in turn."

He gestured to a tray which contained hot coals. Master Tan stepped onto the tray. He was totally barefooted. The audience ooohed and aaaahed as Master Tan stood perfectly still for a long moment. Then he stepped out of the tray. He lifted one foot, and then the other. They were totally unscarred. They weren't even red.

"That's amazing!" Joanna Martin cried.

"How do you spell your name? I want it spelled correctly, for my book," Ernie Maslarov asked Master Tan. "Is that Tan with a T?"

"It is not amazing. It is simply harnessing the powers from within," said Master Tan. "Another demonstration." He opened a small box, and a pink butterfly came flying out. Master Tan reached out with his fingers and grabbed the butterfly delicately in midair. Then he released it. Then he grabbed it again, and released it again.

"How did yew do that?" Joanna asked.

"It is all about living within the moment," said Master Tan. His eyes narrowed as he heard someone whispering something in back. "And I do not talk like a Chinese fortune cookie."

John Cambell looked startled. How had Master Tan overheard him?

"Come forward, please. Yes, you."

Cambell, with his head slunk down, came forward.

"You do not believe in the power of the individual?"

"I don't know," said Cambell, feeling more than a little embarrassed.

"It is obvious that there is much you do not know. Try to push me," said Master Tan.

Cambell hesitated.

"Go on," said Tan impatiently.

Cambell tried to push Master Tan. But Master Tan wouldn't budge. He pushed harder, but Master Tan didn't move. As Cambell grew frustrated, a smile appeared on Master Tan's face.

"And now, observe, lesson three." And Master Tan flicked a little finger, and John Cambell went flying across the room. Everyone's mouth dropped open.

"Observe. The power of the individual," said Master Tan.

Cambell slowly got up.

"Are you hurt?" Tan asked.

"Just a little sore."

"Pain can be an excellent teacher," said Master Tan.

The class laughed.

"Questions?" Master Tan asked.

Bill Kenilworth had one. "It's great that you're a monk that has trained for a lifetime to do this stuff but... we're just Americans, most of us, who are joining the Survey Service. How can we do what you are?"

"Being an American is not a weakness. You think because you are white that you cannot do what I do. You are wrong," said Master Tan. "The power is within all of you, even the whitest of the whitest of you. All you have to do is find it."

"And how do we do that? Kenilworth asked.

"Ah," Master Tan said. "That, I cannot tell you."

Taylor watched Black Bart throw Andrea Farber to the ground. She landed with an ooof, and her large breasts bounced around in her Cadet day shirt. She was so gorgeous! He forced himself to look away.

"What do you think?" Taylor whispered to Cherry Oteri.

"To be able to harness the unlimited power of the human body? That's great! I'm all for it. Sign me up!" she said.

They watched as Black Bart threw Allyson Harshbarger over his shoulder.

"Yeah, but how do we do it?" Taylor asked. "We have to be able to throw Black Bart to pass our physical exams. It would be useful to know how."

Black Bart sent Ernie Maslarov flying against a padded wall. He landed with a thud.

Cherry winced. "I don't think Ernie has the answer either."

The next morning, Chappie smiled at them. "Saddle up, children! We are going on a hike!"

And hike they did, for 54 of the next 72 hours. With heavy packs. They were air bussed into the De Soto National Forest in nearby Mississippi where they hiked for a total of more than two out of the next three days.

Taylor found himself hiking with Cherry. She was having trouble keeping up. The pack was simply too big and heavy for her. She had a thin, slender Chinese body and was having trouble bearing the weight of it. She quickly fell behind to the end of the column, but didn't escape Sergeant Chappie's notice.

"What have we got here, Oteri?" said Chappie, sensing weakness. "Are you doing all right? Perhaps you'd like a break? We could have chamomile tea!"

"No Sergeant!" Cherry cried.

"Or maybe we could lighten your load. Would you like that, Oteri?"

"No Sergeant!" Cherry said.

"Are you sure? Your boyfriend here wouldn't mind carrying some of her load, would you, Moon Hero?"

Taylor did not answer. He just shook his head.

"You see? Moon Hero here would be happy to lighten your load... as long as you lightened his load, later," said Chappie. His eyebrows furled. "Now are you going to keep up, Oteri, or do you want to save us all a lot of time and give me your RFD now?"

"I'll keep up, Sergeant!" she said.

"We'll see, Oteri," said Chappie, glaring at her. He fast trotted to move ahead in the line.

"Mike... I don't think I can make it," said Cherry.

"You can do it, Cherry," said Taylor. "Just keep concentrating, one step at a time." He felt indebted to her. Cherry had been tutoring him on Galactic Physics. Taylor didn't want to lose his tutor. And besides... he liked Cherry.

They camped in the forest. There was something almost romantic about lying next to Cherry under the stars. They weren't touching, of course. But the knowledge that this pretty girl was lying just feet away from him made him excited.

Sarah's kissing lessons has progressed. She told Taylor that he was rapidly becoming an excellent kisser. He wondered if he tried it on Cherry, what she would say... he fell asleep with a smile, and sweet thoughts in his mind.....

... And he awoke with a boot on his head. "Rise and shine, mister!" Sergeant Chappie barked.

They marched for two more days. Cherry was always at the end of the line. Taylor stayed with her. It was only through his sheer force of encouragement that he kept her going.

Chappie didn't fail to notice. He came back periodically to berate Cherry, and demand her RFD. She refused. Sometimes he tried to get to Cherry through Taylor. He would say, "What's your favorite flavor, mister?"

"Chocolate," said Taylor, wondering where this was going.

"No it's not," said Chappie. "Your favorite flavor is Cherry. Say it! What is your favorite flavor?"

"Cherry!" said Taylor, feeling embarrassed.

"Again!"

"Cherry! My favorite flavor is Cherry, Sergeant!"

After Chappie had left them, Cherry let out a surprising laugh.

"What's so funny?" Taylor demanded.

"You," she said, and she gave him such a look, a look that lifted the weight of his pack off his back and eased all the soreness out of his legs, just for a moment.

When they finally got back to the base, late in the evening, everyone was foot weary and exhausted. Cadets piled into the barracks and collapsed on their beds.

But Sergeant Chappie barred Cherry's way into the barracks. "Sir? I mean, Sergeant?" she asked tentatively.

Chappie glared at her. "Oteri. It's obvious from your performance that you're not going to make it in the Service. I want your RFD."

"No Sergeant!" said Cherry.

"Oteri, I want your RFD!"

"No, Sergeant!"

"Then run around the perimeter."

"Now Sergeant?" They had just returned from their three day trek and she was exhausted. She saw the look on his face. "How many laps, Sergeant?"

"As many as it takes."

Cherry was shaken to the core. Sergeant Chappie had just put her on the treadmill of death. He would keep her going, and going until she quit.

Cherry wearily dropped her pack and started for the perimeter at a trot.

Taylor found himself just standing there, staring at Chappie.

"What are you looking at, Moon Lover?"

"Nothing, sir," said Taylor. He ran off after Cherry.

And then something happened that all the cadets found remarkable. As Cherry ran around the perimeter, her strength flagging, Michael Taylor ran with her.

"You don't have to do this, Mike," Cherry gasped.

"I want to," said Mike, running with her.

"You... you're a good friend, Mike," Cherry gasped. "The things... the things they say about you are not true."

"What things?" Mike asked.

"If... If I don't RFD, I'll tell you," said Cherry.

Cherry continued to stagger all night around the base perimeter. Taylor kept up with her. He talked to her the entire time, keeping her awake, keeping her distracted. If he hadn't been there, she surely would have collapsed.

The morning sun was slowly rising when Cherry realized she could go no further. "Mike, I can't do this!" She staggered to a halt.

"You can," said Taylor.

"He's going to make me keep doing this forever!"

"No he's not," said Taylor. "All you have to do is keep doing it one step longer than Chappie is willing to make you do it. Just take one more step!" He wrapped an arm around her, underneath her, and started her walking. "Keep walking!" he cried. "I won't let you stop!"

Cherry started to take one step, then another, then another. "Mike, I think I can-"

Suddenly, they almost bumped into Sergeant Chappie. "Well, what do we have here?" he said. "I sent one cadet on a run, and here I have two. Do you like night runs, Moon Hero?"

"Yes Sergeant," said Taylor.

"Good. Then you can join morning calisthenics. We're all waiting for you."

Cherry opened her mouth and was about to protest on Mike's behalf, but he gave her a warning look.

"And you, Cadet Oteri."

"Sergeant?"

"Get to your bunk. Sleep the morning off."

"Sergeant?"

"You'll need your head, for your afternoon classes."

"Sergeant, yes Sergeant!" She smiled at Taylor and hobbled off.

Chappie scowled at Taylor. "What are you still doing here, Moon Lover? Do I have to ask you twice?"

"No sir!" said Taylor, a smile on his face as he ran to the line of cadets gathering in front of the barracks.

"Everyone is talking about your heroism, Mike," said Doctor Vladek.

"I wouldn't call it heroism," said Taylor.

"What would you call it then, love?" said Doctor Vladek. "That is why you spent the night walking Cadet Oteri around the perimeter, isn't it, Mike? Because you love her?"

Taylor blushed. "No, that's not it at all. I was just trying to help a fellow cadet."

"So admirable. So very selfless. And that's a quality that is highly prized, here in the Survey Service," said Doctor Vladek. Taylor felt he was being dissected under those large, heavy eyes. "So would you have done the same for Joanna Martin?"

"Perhaps."

"Sophie Astor?"

"Maybe."

"Allyson Harshbarger?"

Mike reacted involuntarily, twitching slightly, and he was sure that Doctor Vladek had noticed. It was at that moment that he realized the purposes of these sessions with his "counselor". It was another way to try to break him, another way to try to get him to RFD. Well, it wouldn't work.

"Yes, I would do it for anyone," said Taylor.

"Truly admirable," said Doctor Vladek. "You may make a fine Survey Service officer yet. But I'm told you have a problem with the physical requirements. You haven't yet thrown Black Bart, have you?"

"No sir."

"And you haven't yet been able to do a hundred pushups, have you?"

"No sir."

"How many pushups have you done, Mike?"

"Fifty three sir."

"How many was that?"

"Fifty three," said Taylor.

"And you need to do a hundred within a month, do you not?"

"Yes sir."

"Perhaps if you paid less attention to girls, and more on the other physical demands of the Service, you'd do better. What do you think, Mike?"

Taylor tried to restrain his anger. He was very much aware that Doctor Vladek was analyzing every twitch, every sign revealing itself on his face. "A good suggestion, sir," he ended up saying.

Chappie continued to try and break as many cadets as he could. His next target was Joanna Martin. He tackled her while she was doing repeated sets of jumping jacks.

"What's wrong with you, why do you speak so funny?" Chappie demanded, as he watched her breasts flop up and down with every jump.

"I'm from Australia, Sergeant," said Joanna.

"Australia? That's your explanation? That's why your mouth is all wacked up? Stop talking like you have a mouth full of Kangaroo pussy! Say 'you'!"

"Yew," said Joanna.

"You."

"Yew!"

Chappie's eyes bulged with anger. "Say 'you' right now, Martin, or so help me, I'll drop you from the program this very instant!"

In retrospect, it sounded like a ridiculous threat. Chappie couldn't drop her from the program because of the way she pronounced a word. But in the heat of the moment, Joanna felt the fear and terror of being dropped from the program. Chappie seemed deadly serious.

She strained to work her lips and tongue. She tried to think how Taylor said it. "Y... You." She said hesitantly.

Chappie stared at her with cold eyes.

"Again!"

"You," she said, still jumping up and down, still sending her breasts flopping every which way.

"Again!"

"You!" she said, more confidently.

"A bit better," said Chappie. "I can almost understand what you're saying now. But you still talk like you got kangaroo pussy in your mouth. This isn't the Crocodile Discovery Channel, little girl, this is the Survey Service! The Service doesn't have time to fuck with little girls who talk like they have marbles in their mouths when we have people depending on us for their very lives! Got that, little girl?"

"Yes, Sergeant!"

Chappie's next target of the day was Ernie Maslarov, who he had doing pushups.

"I hear you're an incredible author," said Chappie, lying down on the sand so his head would be next to Ernie. "I feel incredibly honored, sir, to be next to such tremendous artistic talent, may I say."

Ernie didn't respond, but kept doing pushups. The strain in his arms was building.

"In fact, you have inspired me to write my own little novel. Would you like to hear a reading from it, Maslarov?"

"Yes Sergeant," said Ernie, with obvious strain in his voice.

"The title of the book is 'The Cruel and Inhuman Suffering of Ernie Maslarov'. Do you like it?"

"Yes, Sergeant," Ernie gasped, as his arms trembled.

"What? My feeble Chinese ears can't hear you!"

"Yes, Sergeant! I love the title of your new book!"

"I thought you would," said Chappie. "The book begins with a young man, so arrogant, so cocksure, that he decides to take a precious seat at the Academy, not so he can become a Survey Service officer, but so he can write a FUCKING HOLOBOOK. He takes the slot that should go to a real cadet because of his selfishness and vanity. Are you following me so far, son?"

"Yes Sergeant!" Ernie gasped, as he continued to do pushups.

"Very good. But then the story has, how do you call it, a great plot twist. The drill sergeant, an exceptionally handsome Chinese man with small eyes (and an even smaller penis) catches on to what the main character is doing, and decides to immerse said main character in a world of pain. Do you like the plot so far, Maslarov?"

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Good! I thought you would," said Chappie, giving him an intense look of a proud author. "Then let's skip the preliminaries and jump straight to Chapter Four." Chappie read from his Pad. "Excuse me, I have to enlarge the print a bit, my petite Chinese eyes are so very small." He made an adjustment on his Pad, and then started reading.

"Chapter Four: Pushups Forever. Catchy title, isn't it, son?"

"Yes Sergeant!"

"Let me see here...." Chappie started to read from his Pad. "Chapter Four. It was a dark and stormy night. Ernie had been doing pushups all day, and now he was doing them all night. The Sergeant said he wasn't going to put up with Ernie's shit anymore, and that he would keep doing pushups until he died. Like it so far, son?"

"Yes Sergeant!" Ernie gasped again. His arms were shuddering with fatigue.

Chappie held up an excited finger. "Wait, it gets even better. After doing pushups all day and all night, Ernie realized that he would be doing them for the rest of his natural life unless he gave the Sergeant his RFD. So he did. And he lived happily ever after." He looked at Maslarov. "What do you think of the ending?"

"It could use a little work, sir," Ernie allowed.

"Too abrupt? Not enough plot twists?" His tone darkened. "I want your RFD, Maslarov!"

"No Sergeant!"

"People join the Service to help others, not to write a fucking book! I want your RFD!"

"No Sergeant!"

"Then you're going to be writing a ten book sequel all with the same title word: pain."

Mohammida Najjar was Sergeant Chappie's next target. He spoke to her while she was doing sit ups.

"Cadet Najjar, I heard something extremely disturbing, and I have a question that I think only you can answer," said Chappie. "May I ask it?"

Mohammida cautiously nodded.

"I want to ask you, with only the greatest respect... is it true that Laquinta, your Great God of Blood... is a motherfucker?"

Mohammida's eyes went wide. She felt herself giving a silent scream.

"Perhaps you didn't hear my question," said Chappie. "I apologize for my soft Chinese voice. So I'll say it louder. Is Laquinta, your Great God of Blood, a mother-fucker?"

"No!" she practically shouted, even as she continued to do sit ups.

"Really? That comes as a great surprise to me. I heard that he was," said Chappie, staring at her dark eyes. He could clear see the mur*er in them. She wanted to chop off his head right there and now. Chappie smiled as he saw her simultaneous rage and helplessness. "I heard that Laquinta fucked his own mother. In the ass, by the way. That's why he's called the God of Blood. Because he fucked his Mom so hard, that when he pulled out, blood came spurting out of her asshole, like it was a bloody fountain. Did you ever hear that?"

"No," said Mohammida, gritting her teeth in extreme anger.

"I think I read it in the preface to the Great Book of Blood. Perhaps that page fell out of yours, I'd be happy to lend you mine," said Chappie, still smiling broadly. He sat down by her amicably. "Tell me, Mohammida, let's do a thought experiment, you and I together. What would happen if we shipped your sorry ass back to Ramada? I heard that you and your parents didn't exactly part on the best of terms. Isn't it true that if we sent you back there that within a day you'd be barefoot, pregnant, chained to the kitchen, with whip marks on your ass for failing to serve dinner or suck your husband's dick fast enough?"

Mohammida ground her teeth together. "No, Sergeant!" she managed to get out.

"I'm sorry, do you mean that no, your whip marks on your ass wouldn't be from failing to serve dinner fast enough, or that the whip marks on your ass wouldn't be from failing to suck your husband's dick fast enough?"

"No to both, Sergeant!" she roared.

"I see," said Chappie. And then he sighed. "I don't want to do this, Mohammida. I like you, I really do... as much as someone can like someone else who worships a God who violently rapes his own mother in the ass. I wasn't going to tell you this, but I guess I have to."

Mohammida felt her pulse beating rapidly as she waited.

"If we drop you, your visa will be revoked. You'll be deported back to Ramada. But if you RFD, you can stay here, in America. You can get a job at an American university as a feminist lecturer. You can get yourself some real pussy to munch on, and tell thousands of impressionable young women how terribly oppressed they are in America, not at all liberated like they are in Ramada. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Just give me your thumb, Mohammida. That's all you have to do." He held out his Pad.

Mohammida started to tremble, even as she continued to exercise. For a moment, she felt a terrible wave of indecision. To be deported, back to Ramada! That would be a death sentence. But then she shook her head, and said, "No, Sergeant! Aarrrrrggghhh!" She cried out in extreme pain as she did another pushup.

"Where is your God now, bitch? I'll tell you exactly where he is," said Chappie, his eyes ablaze. "He's right here. I am your God now, Najjar. And your God has a new name. Do you know what it is?"

He watched as Mohammida groaned again as she did another situp. Her abdomen felt like it was on fire.

"His name is PAIN," said Chappie, staring into her eyes.
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