Ghem-Yulang looks about as impressed with Byerly as Tarn does, delivering a withering look at the truly obnoxious question. "Sodium pentanol is a Class III restricted drug. It is not intended for recreational use."
Also, the Cetagandans have much better designer drugs.
"It does induce a semi-euphoric state," he confirms, though he's mostly addressing Tarn. It does little to ease Sonia's nerves as the ghem-lieutenant pricks the inside of her arm with just a drop of the drug. She flinches, even though it doesn't really hurt. If ghem-Yulang notices, he doesn't seem particularly moved by it. "And it is indeed a powerful drug. It is a potent barbiturate that, in addition to the euphoria, significantly removes inhibition and heightens free association. It is not, as popular culture is fond of propagating, a magic truth serum. But it's long since been proven to be the most reliable form of effective interrogation. The subject doesn't feel compelled to tell the truth -- they simply feel they have no reason not to."
Sonia wants to bite back with something sharp and cutting, a rebuttal to this constant reference to her as the subject, but instead she stares at the pricked spot on her arm and wills it to turn red, to welt, to anything. Anything to spare her from this.
"No allergy, sir," the ghem-lieutenant reports. Ghem-Yulang gives him a curt nod and gestures to the case on the table. Nestled inside the molded velvet are a hypospray and two ampules of a clear blue liquid.
"Let us begin, then."
Sonia wants to cry. She feels tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes, but determinedly does not blink. She looks around the room nervously, a trapped girl looking for escape -- she looks anywhere but at Tarn -- her gaze falls on Byerly instead, pleading and desperate. She flinches again as the ghem-lieutenant presses the hypospray to her arm with a soft hiss, but within seconds her tensed body begins to slacken in the chair.
"The drug takes a minute or two to take full effect," ghem-Yulang continues to explain in his clinical tone. "Before beginning the interrogation proper, we ask a set of preliminary questions to which we already know the answer, to set a baseline."
The drug doesn't seem to be taking long with Sonia. The terror slips away from her face like water on an oil-slick surface, her eyes glazing over, and her taut mouth loosens into a small, hazy smile.
no subject
Also, the Cetagandans have much better designer drugs.
"It does induce a semi-euphoric state," he confirms, though he's mostly addressing Tarn. It does little to ease Sonia's nerves as the ghem-lieutenant pricks the inside of her arm with just a drop of the drug. She flinches, even though it doesn't really hurt. If ghem-Yulang notices, he doesn't seem particularly moved by it. "And it is indeed a powerful drug. It is a potent barbiturate that, in addition to the euphoria, significantly removes inhibition and heightens free association. It is not, as popular culture is fond of propagating, a magic truth serum. But it's long since been proven to be the most reliable form of effective interrogation. The subject doesn't feel compelled to tell the truth -- they simply feel they have no reason not to."
Sonia wants to bite back with something sharp and cutting, a rebuttal to this constant reference to her as the subject, but instead she stares at the pricked spot on her arm and wills it to turn red, to welt, to anything. Anything to spare her from this.
"No allergy, sir," the ghem-lieutenant reports. Ghem-Yulang gives him a curt nod and gestures to the case on the table. Nestled inside the molded velvet are a hypospray and two ampules of a clear blue liquid.
"Let us begin, then."
Sonia wants to cry. She feels tears start to prick at the corners of her eyes, but determinedly does not blink. She looks around the room nervously, a trapped girl looking for escape -- she looks anywhere but at Tarn -- her gaze falls on Byerly instead, pleading and desperate. She flinches again as the ghem-lieutenant presses the hypospray to her arm with a soft hiss, but within seconds her tensed body begins to slacken in the chair.
"The drug takes a minute or two to take full effect," ghem-Yulang continues to explain in his clinical tone. "Before beginning the interrogation proper, we ask a set of preliminary questions to which we already know the answer, to set a baseline."
The drug doesn't seem to be taking long with Sonia. The terror slips away from her face like water on an oil-slick surface, her eyes glazing over, and her taut mouth loosens into a small, hazy smile.