"Baumann," Lisle repeated, binding the face to a name for the first time.  "You'll - help me?  But you did this to me!"  There was pain and skepticism in her voice.  She sat up a little more, and winced as her recovering legs protested the movement.  The blanket had fallen down around her waist, and she kept it there in unconscious modesty and a willful resolve not to find out why her legs ached.   Not yet.<br/><br/>She frowned as a memory rolled up, as unexpected and unbidden as a submarine surfacing.  "Something - about making me 'special'.  Why?"