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"You've been training with someone else," Tristan stated has he slashed at Tristan and the human moved out of the way. He suspected why he couldn't manage to make contact with him, but he didn't want to think about it. Of his visitors he was the only one willing to spar with him. His father was useless when it came to fighting, and his brother was too scared of him to come within striking distance.

Alex, on the other hand, had always been willing to fight with him. He'd never been afraid of pain, of bleeding. He had no reason to indulge Tristan. Alex had every reason to abandon him here, but he hadn't, he was always there, reminding him of who Tristan was and that he would get out of this.

Alex came back with a series of attacks, his knives moving so fast Tristan barely got out of their way in time. Tristan threw a punch, Alex ducked, slashed at his stomach. Tristan threw himself back, lost his footing, rolled and got back up in time to dodge the knife Alex threw at him.

Alex was better, Tristan wouldn't deny that, but the drug was also part of the reason the fight was even. It did something to him, to his mind, affected his coordination. There was also the lack of sleep, although that didn't hinder him as much as Justin probably hoped, sitting there, at the edge of his vision, jeering him.

He didn't know how long he'd been in this cage, the light level was constant, just a little too bright to make sleeping under them comfortable, then there were the incessant whispers, if they stayed the same he could learn to ignore them, but they kept changing, increasing in volume, lowering, something he could almost make you what they were saying. His curiosity kept nagging at him, and more than once he woke up from a fitful sleep straining to hear them. Lastly there was the door. It would clang shut and he'd jump to his feet, stomach in a knot waiting for the beating to come. All that happened was his father, mocking him for being afraid of him, still.

Alex circled him, the knife he threw replaced by a longer, curved one. The edge was sharp silver against the rest of the black metal.

"Where's you get that?"

"Ramerel Two, remember."

Tristan remembered that planet. A bunch of savages. He'd been there to obtain a new gun from the Dolfic research laboratory hidden there. When he'd gotten out, he'd walked right into one of the local's war party. Those knives had left quite an impression, a few of the scars his fur hid were from them.

There was something wrong with Alex having one of them, but Tristan refused to think about it.

The soft hiss of a door opening made him glace to the side, and Alex used the distraction to throw himself at Tristan. Tristan dodged and turned to keep both Alex and the woman who entered the room in sight. It was the doctor who had first been there with Justin.

"Activate it," she said, and Tristan wondered what she meant. Then he was pulled back, arms and legs stretched, until he was against the wall. He'd gotten used to the weight of the wrists and ankle bands.

The door opened and clanged shut behind her and he his heart sped up. He pulled on the restraints, but he could move them. He wasn't afraid of her, but that sound meant his father would be coming for him. He needed to be able to move, to fight him.

She stopped before him, studied his face. "You're more resilient than I expected. My projection indicated this formulation should have rendered you a babbling mess. Instead you just talk to people who aren't there."

She studied the band on his bicep. The green light had turned yellow a few days before. He pulled a tool from her breast pocket. An accesser, which she brought to the side of the band. What size was it? A lot smaller than what he normally worked with.

"You're letting her do that to you?" his father said. "I thought you were the 'Great Tristan,' menace of the entire universe."

Tristan glared at him. "If you're not going to be helpful, then be quiet!" He caught the doctor's smirk. "And I never called myself that. The news reports said that when I blew up that space station." He tried to remember the name of it, but it didn't come. Something else the drug had done to him.

He felt the band move against his arm and he looked at what the doctor was doing. His father had distracted him so he hadn't seen where the accesser had gone, but she moved it away from the side of the band. The tip of the tool was small, a millimeter? Two? It would explain why he hadn't felt the opening. He'd have to swipe it if he wanted any chances of removing it.

She pulled a thin cartridge from the pocket where she put the accesser. When she reached for the armband, a holder had extended from the area where the accesser had been. It already had a cartridge, which she replaced with the one she was holding.

"Do it," Tristan told Alex, who was standing next to her, still holding the black knife. "One quick slash and you'll open her throat."

"You don't need me to do that for you to escape, you know that," Alex replied, while the woman cast a worried glace where Tristan was looking.

"Of course I need you. Alex, I always needed you."

"I'm starting to think that boy can't do anything unless you're there," his father offered. He and Alex ignored him. The holder slid shut with a barely audible click.

"That won't stop me," Tristan growled. "I am going to escape, then I'm going to kill you, along with anyone involved in bringing me here." He looked over her shoulder at the guards. "And anyone holding me here!" He smiled as they stepped away from the bars.

The doctor didn't appear worried, unfortunately. "This is a new formulation, based on the readings I took. You should have a more noticeable reaction this time."

He leaned in as much as he could, and almost growled when she didn't react. That woman was too confident in his restraint. He would have to show her how much danger she was actually in at some point. Instead he lowered his voice.

"Tell my little brother that he'd better start running now, because when I escape, I am going to make him suffer."

She looked at him, her eyes cold, emotionless. "I'll relay the message." She turned and headed out. He prepared himself. Told himself he wouldn't react this time as the door opened and closed with a loud clang. His body twitched, and his father laughed.

"Release him, and stay away from the bars, he might be able to reach them this time."

The wall let him go and he dropped to his knees. He didn't know what she was talking about, he'd stopped bothering trying to reach the door a long time ago. The restraints were set to stop him two feet away from them. As hard as he tried he couldn't push through that space. The guards looked as confused about the comment as Tristan was.

He ran a hand along the edge of the armband, trying to feel where the accesser had gone in to open it. He couldn't feel it, or the place where the holder went in. As he searched for them, the light on the band went from yellow to green.

The bitch had done this to him.

The thought came unbidden, unwanted, accompanied by a flash of anger. He tried to push the anger down, it wouldn't help him. Anger never helped. He had to remain composed, in control.

Instead he got to his feet. She and Justin were to blame for this. He looked around for his brother, but he was alone in the cage. They'd deserted him. Even Alex had left him alone.

Tristan fixed his gaze of the woman and growled. She was going to pay. With a scream he launched himself at the door. The woman smiled.

He reached the two-foot mark and the restraint pulled his arms and legs back, keeping him from moving. He tried to regain control of his body. He needed to think things through. He couldn't just throw himself at the problem. But his body just screamed incoherently.

The guards stepped closer to the bars curiosity on their face as Tristan felt himself tense. With a roar he pulled against the force and took a step forward. His muscles bunched and he pulled his arm before him.

The guards scrambled back with fearful curses. The doctor's smile just grew. She'd wanted this? Did she have a plan of her on? His hand was almost at the door. Once he grabbed it, he would rip it out.

The pullback intensified. One of the guards held a control. Tristan fought against it, yelled as he pulled hard to reach the door. But he was flung back and landed on the floor, panting. The flash of rage that had let him push through the resistance was gone. His body shook from the strain and exhaustion.

He pushed himself to a kneeling position and looked at the door. He'd almost reached it. He'd almost managed to escape. The woman was done. The guards kept away from the bars, the fear still visible on their face. It was good they were afraid, they would be the first one to die.

"You're going to die," Tristan stated. "I'm going to kill you." He was calm again, back in control.

The guards didn't laugh this time. As one they looked at the door, then back to him and stepped back.

"I will get out." He rubbed at his arm, then scratched it.

When he felt wetness under his finger he forced himself to stop. He'd clawed a gash in his arm. He felt an itch on his other forearm, and for a moment he thought he saw the fur move. No, his skin move, the rippling was what had caused his fur to move.

He slapped a hand over the crawling spot and it stopped. No, now it was on his thigh, he could feel something moving under his skin. The sensation stopped just as his hand was about to slap the spot. Now it was on his chest.

What had she put in him? Nanites? Were they going to take him apart one atom at a time? He couldn't let that happen. He needed to get them out of him. He dug his claws in his chest, then his arm, the shoulder, his leg. They kept moving, anticipating where he clawed himself to reach them. He had to get them out. He couldn't let them take him apart. He wouldn't let the universe win this way. He dug the claws in harder, maybe they'd just moved deeper, to where he couldn't feel them.

He had to get them out.

"Tristan, Stop!"

Tristan looked up, into golden eyes.

"That's it, focus on me, not what you're feeling."

The eyes were set in a face covered with tawny fur. The muzzle was shorter, the right ear notched. The person kneeling in front of him was a Samalian. Where had he come from? How had he gotten in the cage without that disconcerting clanging? He only wore pants, a blue that had faded with time and wear. He had two swords clipped to his hips. Why did he look familiar.

He began scratching at his thigh again.

"Ignore that, it isn't real. It's the drug she gave you. You're in trouble Tristan."

"I'm going to escape. I just have to be patient. Alex said so."

"Alex isn't--" the familiar Samalian stopped himself. "Think, how sure are you can get out of here?"

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Have we met? Why do you look familiar?"

The Samalian rubbed his face. "We so don't have the time for it. Yes, you've seen me before, I wouldn't be here otherwise. Now focus."

Tristan tried to remember where he might have seen him before, and all that came to him was a bazaar. He'd been looking for something to give to Alex. He smiled. Alex had been so happy. His smile so genuine.

Tristan had taken that away from him.

"I hurt him." Why had he done that? Why had he hurt someone as extraordinary as Alex. He was so good to him and what had Tristan done in return? He'd stolen that smile from him. He'd given him pain, used--

"Tristan!"

Tristan's head snapped up. The Samalian was looking at him, fixing him with his golden gaze.

"Yes, you did all that, but you can't do anything about it right now, that's for the future, right now you need to survive."

"I will survive. There's nothing the universe can throw at me I won't survive."

"Throw at your body maybe. What about your mind?"

Tristan frowned. Was the cage getting smaller?

"Don't pay attention to that. We're running out of time. The drugs she gave you, they can destroy you."

"No." Yes, the cage was definitely getting smaller.

"Yes." Was the Samalian moving away? "Tristan, listen to me." He certainly sounded like he was further away. "You need to figure out what to give into and what to fight! If you try to fight it all, you're just going to tire yourself out and then when it gets really bad you won't be able to do anything about it!"

Tristan curled in on himself, making himself as small as he could to avoid touching the bars. He didn't want to be in the cage. When was his father going to let him out? What had he done to deserve it? He began crying.