The excursion to Rio de Janeiro had been oddly stimulating, but Dok felt much more comfortable now that he was back in his own domain, his laboratory. Here he did not have to play at being friendly to strangers. Here his position and reputation gained him the respect he deserved, or at least the means to control others as he saw fit.
Today he felt absolutely energized and confident. Everything was going swimmingly, in his estimation. The female subject was as cooperative as expected, showing no signs of psychosis, and her initial blood work was promising. He felt certain that nothing could prevent him from being able to use her in the project; the Major himself would be unable to object.
Still, he would proceed with caution and perform every check as planned. It was certainly frustrating having the end in sight but not being able to rush towards the finish line.
As for the young lady, it was only natural that she would be mistrustful of him, considering his part in bringing her to Millennium. Nothing about her body language escaped his notice, not even the slightest flinch at his examining touch. He didn't take it personally and would draw no attention to it.
Dok had argued with himself for some time whether or not he could have avoided this particular problem, but in the end, it didn't matter. Building a rapport took time even under the best circumstances; he supposed he could work on his bedside manner in the meantime.
Eventually he would have to tell her the real reason she was there, the great leaps in human evolution she was going to witness firsthand. At the moment, however, that information would only complicate matters and cause unnecessary distress.
He continued updating the numerous charts on his computer, then noticed that the rustling noises coming from behind him had ceased. He called over his shoulder, "Finished then?"
"Almost," Tamara replied.
The doctor had been excruciatingly thorough in his exam so far, which had taken the better part of three hours just to cover the basics. Even her fingernails had been subject to scrutiny after he'd had her remove the remnants of polish that remained from the manicure she had received the morning of the wedding.
The intensity he put into everything was disturbing and she found herself closing her eyes to the world and him, more often than not. Her skin crawled from being touched so much today, especially by the person who had destroyed her future and caused her so much distress.
Now she was wearing nothing but the paper dress and her knee high socks, wishing she could somehow fast-forward time. Her hair was tied back with a rubber band that Dok had handed to her some time ago. Sitting back down onto the examination table, legs dangling, she replied again in a somewhat quieter voice. "Ready."
"On what day did your last cycle begin?" he asked, turning in his swiveled desk chair to face her.
"My period? I'm not sure, but I would have circled it in my planner. A couple weeks ago, I guess."
It was less than a minute before Dok had managed to produce the item in question from a locked desk drawer. He flipped a few pages and typed up some notes. "Hmm, consistent."
Back into the drawer the portable calendar went. She wondered if any of her other possessions were secured inside. Had their hotel room been raided after they were taken?
"Are you on any form of birth control?"
She shifted uncomfortably. "No. I haven't seen a doctor about that. Yet."
"Fine. Go ahead and lie down."
She balked, even though it had been crystal clear what was coming next. "Shouldn't there be another woman in the room?"
He tilted his head just slightly in puzzlement.
"You know, to make sure everything stays…professional."
"It's been many years since I've required any assistance so there is no such person. However, I assure you that our relationship will remain, as you say, professional."
He stretched a new glove into place on his right hand. She hadn't quite figured it out yet, but there was something off about those hands.
"Any pain here?"
"No."
"You are a bit thinner than I would have preferred. Your ill-fitting tourist clothes made it hard to tell," he remarked casually.
Dok thought perhaps she uttered a single-word curse under her breath, and reconsidered whether or not that had been an appropriate comment during such an intimate exam.
Lowering her arm back down onto the table, he moved to seat himself on a stool near her feet. Turning on a floor lamp and adjusting the position of her legs, he tried to continue in a more positive light. "Still, your features are sufficient for Millennium's needs."
"Which are what, exactly?" she asked, her voice cracking just a little. She had quickly tied up the front of the disposable gown and was now fidgeting with the strings.
"Information will be given out as it is… Oh. Hmm."
Now it was his turn to curse.
"What? What's wrong?" She tilted her head down to look towards him in concern.
Dok regarded her curiously over the sheet draped across her knees. "I wasn't expecting you to be intact. Have you really not consummated your marriage?"
He knew it would be an uncomfortable question, but was not quite expecting the deer-in-the-headlights look she gave him.
"We, we've been intimate," she stammered. "We were just taking it slow because…" She looked up at the ceiling, clearly embarrassed.
Such a wholesome couple.
Dok thought quickly, tapping his fingers on his knee in agitation. He already knew that nothing was going to get in the way of his timeline, so there was only one possible outcome. Sighing, he retrieved a small pillow from underneath the exam table and handed it to her wordlessly. Next, he chose a delicate scalpel and a few pads of gauze from the metal tray beside him.
"This is probably going to sting a little."
Marlena Dietrich crooned her love songs from the Major's well-loved record player. He absolutely refused to upgrade to the newer 8-track or cassette tape technology in his private lounge, insisting that she sounded better this way.
She may have been a traitor to the Fatherland, but he could still appreciate art for art's sake.
"Oh, to be a fly on the wall of that laboratory," he said to his silent companion as he stretched out on the settee. "I am certainly looking forward to the reports tonight."
The captain said nothing of course, standing in his usual spot in front of a large oil painting. It was an abstract style and might have depicted an autumn forest, or the artist merely having fun with varying shades of red and orange.
The Major continued as if it were a two-way conversation.
"Truly, I could not sleep last night. Neither could I eat. To have come so far and to be on the verge of such greatness. How shall I contain my enthusiasm?"
Still silence.
"Tell me, have you ever thought of having children?"
The stoic man unfolded his arms for a few moments, then folded them again.
"I know we are nothing but old war dogs, you and I, but I do sometimes get sentimental at my age. Procreation is power. The first man saw the first woman, and he subdued her, raising a legacy unto himself before returning to the dust. That is the greatest gift of man. To hold the power of creation within the act, dominated by pleasure while simultaneously establishing dominance. To see your progeny come into being, molded and shaped into your image, sending them off to do the same. They go forth to conquer as well, spreading your genetic code far into the future, long after you yourself are gone. True immortality!"
The captain shrugged.
"It's different for you, yes? Well, no matter. You will still get to watch the drama unfold along with the rest of us."
He drummed his fingers in front of him, his grin spreading across his face. "It's positively titillating."
He could have at least apologized, Tamara thought bitterly.
Of all the things she hadn't had time to be worried about. This had to fall under some kind of worst case scenario in a nightmare about a doctor's visit, much less a real one.
When finally they stopped for lunch, she felt as if she couldn't handle one more minute in this place. It had taken all of her resolve not to cry during the pelvic examination as she buried her face in the pillow that Dok had given her. It wasn't the pain so much, which had been mostly tolerable, but the overwhelming mortification and feeling of being so deeply violated.
After that, he asked if she felt she could eat anything, and when she shook her head, he got her a cloth-wrapped ice pack and sent her to one of the hospital beds to take a nap for an hour instead. With the cold compress giving some relief between her legs and the pillow held tightly in her arms, she managed to cry herself to sleep.
When her promised hour was over, Dok tapped on the door and let himself inside. "Just rest there for a minute while I check," he said, using a pen light to confirm that the bleeding had stopped down below.
"Might be sore for a few days. Just let me know if the pain increases." He clicked off the light and returned it to his coat pocket.
"Dress and then meet me back out in the lab. We have five minutes in order to stay on schedule."
He departed and she mechanically put her clothes back on, wondering what further horrors awaited her out there.
As it turned out, all that was waiting was a chair situated next to Dok's computer station, with a folded tray beside it containing her lunch.
"You will have to eat while we talk. I have lots of questions. Some may be harder to answer than others, but do your best."
She nodded.
"Oh, and I would prefer from now on that you give me verbal responses only. Yes or no, et cetera. Is that understood?"
"Yes."
"Good. So how do you feel right now?"
"Well, I feel a little groggy since I just woke up." Dok started typing as if taking dictation. "I feel sore." She hugged her midsection comfortingly. "My wrists aren't hurting anymore, I guess."
"That's fine, but how do you feel here?" He pointed at his own temple.
"My head? Oh, emotionally? Umm…"
Where to begin?
"I'm feeling overwhelmed by everything. Nervous, lonely, I guess. Angry." This last part was hardly more than a whisper.
"And how do you normally deal with such emotions?"
"I talk about them. With someone I trust," she added quickly.
"Do you trust me?"
She looked down into her lap, and shook her head imperceptibly.
"Do you trust me?" he said a little louder.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Do I have to answer that?"
"You have to do everything you're told. We aren't going through that again."
"I can't do this." She was wringing her hands now.
"Young lady…" his voice raised in pitch.
"I can't!" she stood abruptly, her foot catching the edge of the tray, knocking it over and sending all of its untouched contents onto the floor with a series of loud clatterings.
She stood frozen as the plastic cup rolled to its final resting place. Nothing was broken, but it was a mess.
Dok inhaled loudly through his nose, his mouth tight as he stood and came over to her. Tamara thought it possible that he was going to strike her, and flinched when he came close. But he walked right on past her, grabbing a mop and broom from between two tall cabinets. She watched him sweep up every scrap of food back onto the tray. Then he took the mop and efficiently cleaned up the liquid spill. Once he was done, he threw the lot away into a large rubbish bin and sat back down.
"I'll have another one sent down for you," he said, typing on the keyboard at lightning speed. "Please have a seat."
She sat, blinking at the clean – well, swept anyway – expanse of floor, surprised by what had just happened.
"Any history of heart disease in your family?"
"No."
"How about high cholesterol?"
"No."
"Cancer?"
"I think my grandpa did."
"Paternal or maternal?"
The questions continued for what seemed like an eternity. Most of them made sense from a medical stance. Had she ever had surgery? What allergies did she have? How often did she exercise or get her heart rate up?
Some seemed less relevant and were often very personal. What kind of relationship did she have with her siblings? Did she ever have a near-death experience? What role did religion play in her life? The question about trust fortunately did not come up again.
By the end, Tamara was having to clear her throat regularly from all the talking and had already downed a few cups of water. She was mentally drained, hoping for a respite from the questions both personal and general. When at last it came, Dok seemed rather pleased.
"I think that is enough for one day. You've been very cooperative. Tomorrow we will begin at eight hundred hours; that is eight o'clock sharp. Here, you will need this."
He had produced a thin silver watch from his pocket, which she took gratefully. It wasn't terribly valuable but her parents had picked it out a few birthdays ago so it had some sentimental value.
"The Major approved you having it back since it's not too conspicuous."
"Thank you," she said, wishing he would give her back the wedding and engagement rings as well. They had been missing along with the watch since she had awoken in the BMW.
"Someone will come for you shortly. Until tomorrow, then." Dok went over to his chemistry lab and busied himself with it. He did not look at nor speak to her again, and true to word, her escort from that morning appeared at the door to take her back to her room.
As she struggled to keep up on the echoing stairwell, gripping the handrail for support, she determined that tomorrow she would remember to ask about Roger.