“Diagnostic reports Revitalization chamber at ninety eight percent capacity,” Argon replied in response to a small affirmative gesture from Solae. Rene exchanged a long glance with Solae.

“It is a shame it can’t be calibrated for Syshin,” Rene observed blowing a breath out between his teeth. That would certainly have simplified things but it stood to reason. Rev chambers were state of the art medical engineering and, like any high precision instrument, it was to specialized to be very flexible.

“Yes but that isn’t who I intended to go inside of it,” Solae said with a dry smile. Rene was about to object but the slight hardening around her lips convinced him not to bother.

“Well I can at least wait until after we get the…” he began.

“Now Rene,” Solae declared, planting her hands on her hips.

The Rev chamber was in a small medical bay on the below ground level. Down here the mansions vulgar luxury gave way to the utilitarian. Store room and electrical generators competed for space with pipework and the small living places that Rene presumed must belong to the maids and the butler. They were little more than cots with tiny ensuite refresher units and closets. Even so they were more luxurious than most of the quarters that Marines had assigned. Lis led the way, apparently eager to ingratiate himself with his captors and potential benefactors. Rene found it hard to find sympathy for the man. Despite his privileged birth ate had given Rene a choice between being executed for a time he didn’t commit, or enlisting in a service that would almost certainly kill him. If the choice had been between starvation and working for slavers, he liked to think he would have happily gone hungry.

The med bay itself was larger than Rene expected. There was a small auto diagnosis unit and several wire shelves piled high with medical supplies of various kinds. It was mostly the sort of standard equipment one might keep on hand in case of agricultural injury but Rene also spied nasogastric feeding tubes and paralyzing sedatives bunded together in small kits. Of course, how better to ship a slave than in a chemical coma. His lip curled in disgust, the slaves couldn’t even starve themselves to escape their fates. The Rev chamber sat on a small pedestal in one corner, banks of monitors connected to it through a forest of wires and tubes. More tubes ran away from it into the floor or into the walls, bringing in chemicals and carrying away waste products. The chamber was the size of a large coffin. It was slightly egg shaped with a number of irregular bulges which mounted integrated monitors. The whole place smelled of antiseptic and another slightly astringent odor which Rene had to assume was related to the medications. A low electric hum emanated from the various consoles and monitors.

“Mr Lis, please give us a moment,” Rene said, his words coming out colder than he had intended. The butler flinched slightly but stepped out into the hallway. Rene moved close to Solae and whispered into her ear.

“Please be careful, if he is going to try anything it will be while I am under,” he told her. Leaning forward he kissed her on the lips. Instinctively he closed his arms around her waist hugging her close to him. Pain rippled up his back, reminding him that she was right about needing medical attention. With a slow movement he clandestinely slid his plasma pistol into her hand so she could tuck it away. The weapon was more complicated and more dangerous than the simple auto pistol she already had, but he didn’t want to leave a weapon out where it could be found. Reluctantly he stepped away from her.

“Alright Argon, how do we use this thing?”

The lid closed with a hiss and for a moment Rene was in darkness. He had stripped naked as instructed, an embarrassing experience with Lis still watching from the hallway and climbed into the dark padded interior of the capsule. Argon indicated that showering was not necessary because cleaning was part of the sterilizing function of the unit. For a moment there was complete darkness and then a bluishish display sprang to life. A dizzying number of digits flashed into existence as a beam swept over him. The simplest figures were recognisable as blood pressure and heart rate. A disembodied voice, cold and clinical began speaking.

“Male subject, Human, Cappelean. Injuries include severe contusions to the anterior plane, muscle tears, microperforation with indigenous stone and residual blunt force trauma with partially successful first aid applications.” It was extremely disconcerting to have the past several days reduced to a staccato list of injuries.

“Estimated repair time Two hundred and eleven minutes. Initiating.” Rene felt something prick his wrist and a moment later a cold sensation flowing up his right arm. A moment later everything faded to black.