He imprisoned her arms and legs, carried her out into the main laboratory.
The Anolyn possessed no anaesthesia. The dissecting tables were equipped instead with straps to hold their victims motionless while they operated. Jupiter buckled the girl face-down on one of the tables.
"Please!" she begged hysterically. "Please!"
"I'm not going to hurt you," he growled and left her to get his medicine kit from the other room.
The kit had been devised to handle almost any emergency that might befall one of the Galactic Colonization Board's special corpsmen. Jupiter found the hypodermic syringe, sterilized it and filled it with exsrocain. The drug was the latest development in a spinal anaesthetic that deadened the nerves of the entire body, inducing a temporary state of suspended animation.
It was a delicate operation, but he inserted the needle between two of the girl's vertebrae, felt her flinch away from him. She lay on the hard slab, quiescent, crying silently.
"Won't hurt," he grunted, and ejected the exsrocain directly into the spinal fluid. Under his breath he counted: "One—two—three—four."
He felt for her pulse, but there was no sign of a heart beat. He found the mirror in the kit, held it before her nostrils. The mirror didn't cloud.
Sweat stood out on Jupiter's forehead. He wiped his palms on his thighs, lifted Tabak's wheat-blonde locks, exposing the small purple protuberance. It looked like a sea shell fastened to the back of her neck.
His hand was trembling. He had to pause and get a grip on himself. Then he grasped the Anolyn, pulled it gently but firmly away from the girl's skin.