More days passed stretching into weeks, and Michael had returned several more times to interrogate me further. And now, as with every other period in between, I laid quietly in the darkness thinking about how many lives would be lost if I gave in. It was getting so hard to hold any hope at all of being rescued, and Michael was relentless. He just didn't care if my body was slowly beginning to fail me. He kept pushing me for more information, to see more of my memories, and absolutely would not stop. How much longer could it go on like this?

I suppose I'd gone long enough without food that, considering my living conditions, I knew I would fall ill eventually. I just hadn't expected it to happen so quickly. Waves of nausea and feverish chills plagued me mercilessly, and I no longer felt hungry. It was difficult now to keep down any water at all, and I quickly became dehydrated and miserable. When Michael finally came back to my cell to check on me, I no longer even had the strength to move. The clinical part of my mind registered my symptoms as indicative of kidney failure, but I didn't care anymore. I wanted it to end. I wanted to die.

"You don't look well," he sighed apathetically. Straight to the point as always. He suddenly lifted me up into a sitting position and hunched down to face me. A smile played across his face. "Allow me to give you a helping hand."

With a jolt, I felt his hand slam against my chest with what felt like the force of a hammer. And then I realized with sickening revulsion that he was giving life back to my body, life that had certainly come from someone else. I cried out with shock as strength began to return to my extremities, my shivering ceased, and the pangs of hunger once again began to twist my guts. "Why? Why would you do that? I would rather die than help you!"

"You are far too valuable a resource to me, Doctor. Death is not an option for you right now." With well-practiced and deliberate movements, he reached into a pouch on his belt, produced a filled syringe, and began to swab my arm with a disinfectant in preparation for injection. "This will also ensure you don't escape."

I cringed when he moved to inject me, but I didn't have the strength to stop him. Moments later, I began to feel a bit euphoric and sleepy. Even my hunger pangs eased a bit. A sedative perhaps? "What was that you injected me with? Why are you doing this?"

"Is that not obvious to you by now?" He rose to his full height in anger and began to pace the cell in a tight circle. "Twice you forced your retrovirus on me, and by then even the other Wraith began to shun me. They thought of me as some 'unclean thing' that had been tainted. I deserve more than to scratch a meager living, alone and feeding off humans that were foolish enough to wander too far from their villages! I will have my revenge, and if my research proves feasible, I will have an army to serve my cause, each one far stronger and faster than any human or Wraith. And you, Doctor, are the key to making it all happen. Your retrovirus research has been most useful to me thus far."

He was mad! A stark raving lunatic! And my utter shock and amazement at the sheer insanity of his plan must have been apparent on my face because when he turned to look down at me, his demeanor changed to assure me of his determination and willingness to do whatever he had to do to reach his goals.

He continued, a bit more calmly this time, and stopped pacing long enough to direct a haughty glare at me. "Many years of human life were required to heal you just now. How many more human lives are you willing to sacrifice to defy me?"

He knew I felt guilty, but I refused to be baited by such a threat. "It was you who drained their lives away, not me. And you'll continue to do it regardless of my level of cooperation."

Michael snarled and lashed out at my face to vent his frustration, then stormed out of the cell. A bruised jaw was a small price to pay to avoid yet another interrogation session, but to my surprise, the lights didn't go out following Michael's departure. I waited with an impending sense of dread for several minutes until the cell door finally re-opened. Michael reappeared then with a young woman in tow and was dragging her with him into the cell. The poor thing was terrified and struggling fiercely against his grip, and for good reason.

"Meet one of my newest test subjects," he spat angrily, promptly dumping her onto the floor at my feet. "She and others like her are the reason you are here. I can selectively probe small parts of your memory when I know what to look for, but the human mind is so fragile and chaotic that not even Wraith telepathy can sift through all the memories built up over a lifetime of experiences without losing one's self. Therefore, if you won't willingly give me the knowledge I seek, you will assist my research efforts instead. And while you continue to defy me, Doctor, I have no compunction against sacrificing the lives of every human in this galaxy if I must. But consider that with your help, many of them could be saved."

Then he left me again to ponder my alternatives. And now I had a roommate to think about as well. I suppose I was grateful to have someone to talk to, and it would help to ease the discomfort of my almost complete isolation up to this point. But she was so young. If Michael were to force me to watch her die in one of his hastily-planned laboratory experiments, I think it would break my heart. My thoughts turned then to Perna and Hoff and the vaccine that I'd tried to help them develop. I had sworn to myself when she died that I would never again let my work be deliberately used at the expense of so many innocents. But what's done is done, and by now Michael has almost certainly learned enough from me to perform his research and maybe even succeed. Would I now let this young woman die a similar death when I might be able do something to prevent it?