The morning of the fifth day began as the others before it had begun for Djaisiuk. He arose when the light in his room was activated, exited his sleeping room, and began to work. He was still weak from lack of food and drink, but he had had the benefit of one meal yesterday. He didn’t know how much or how long he would be able to continue to work today if he was again given no food, but he knew that he must work as much and as well as he could for as long as he could, even without regular sustenance. He must convince the Vukasovians that he was valuable to them, even as stubborn and willful as they must imagine him to be.
His young assistant, Kiacyl, did not come into the room at his usual time. Instead, Kandryl entered. He again called Djaisiuk to come to the round table and seated himself in the same position as before.
“Djaisiuk,” he said once they were seated, himself facing Djaisiuk, and Djaisiuk gazing down at the table. “You know what I want from you. You need only give me affirmation that you will obey me and show me that you truly mean it, and this battle will cease. If you persist in this half-submission, half-rebellion, then the conflict will continue. Eventually you will submit, either willingly or unwillingly. Would it not be wiser simply to submit now and to save yourself unnecessary pain and damage?”
Djaisiuk made no reaction to any of this. He remained sitting perfectly still, his face expressionless.
Kandryl looked at him silently for time, waiting for an answer, but Djaisiuk refused to look at him. Finally, Kandryl said simply, “So be it.”
At the beginning of the fifth working day, Eriane found himself again standing in the same glass alcove overlooking what he now knew to be a torture chamber. Again, Drayl was standing to his right, also watching. Again, two medics below were ensuring that all was in readiness. The “subject” had not yet arrived. Eriane hung his head, not able to look into the room, wishing that he were not here. He did not want to see the device put into use again. He did not want to think about it. He certainly did not want to see the face of whomever the Vukasovians intended to subject to it, be it Komislavian, Londarian, Udolian, or even Terrestrial.
“If you have the slightest doubt as to the accuracy of your proofing or the post-trial examination yesterday,” said Drayl, interrupting Eriane’s thoughts, “now is the time to voice them. If any mistake is made on this subject, the consequences will not be pleasant.”
Eriane swallowed. “If there was anything that I could say, short of lying, that would stop you from using this device ever again, I would say it.”
Drayl smiled. “Yes, it must be hard for you. You are Komislavian, and these are your compatriots. But don’t be too distraught,” he said softly, “it’ll grow easier in time.”
Eriane shuddered inwardly at Drayl’s words. Was there truth in them? If he continued to work for them, would this grow easier in time? Might he eventually become like one of them? No, it couldn’t be! he told himself.
Eriane started as something else that Drayl had said suddenly struck him. “These”? Surely he had said, “These are your compatriots,” hadn’t he? Then was this person also a member of his group? Who might it be today? Surely it couldn’t be Creole or Christopher: they wouldn’t be considered more valuable than Faquire if they still refused to serve the Vukasovians. Did they have another Komislavian prisoner about which the boys knew nothing? Or might it be that Kandryl was attempting to force Creole to work for him, desirous of utilizing Creole’s exceptionally high intelligence? Yes, that was possible. Creole would indeed be valuable in their eyes even if for that alone, and, in his profession, permanent physical damage of any kind could be disastrous. At least Creole was strong, Eriane considered. This machine, although atrocious, was not more than Creole would be able to bear. That thought was somewhat comforting, in a grim sort of way.
Eriane wondered again what he ought to do now. Ought he to join the other three in refusing to serve these Vukasovian monsters? Yes, of course that is what he should do, he told himself, but still he hesitated. Surely there was another option. They had given him a new assignment: he was to assist in the current attempt to find a cure for a congenital disease that seemed to be growing more common among the Vukasovians. That was good, wasn’t it? He was once more helping to heal people, even if they were his enemies. At least it wasn’t evil. Surely he could continue to work for them without furthering their sadistic tendencies. Couldn’t he? And really he had only to do it until they were able to escape. They would leave this place in time, and it would only complicate matters further if they had one more prisoner to rescue when the escape took place. Surely it would be best to continue to work for them as long as possible, or at least for now. But how much longer would it be possible for him to do so?
Eriane decided that he would discuss it with the other boys tonight. He had spent much time last night in asking God’s forgiveness for what he had done and in begging the Lord to show him what he ought to do. He still had no answer. He did not know. Tonight he would ask the others. Perhaps “in an abundance of counselors” he would find wisdom.
This train of thought was interrupted by movement within the room below. A few persons were entering, and Eriane immediately recognized Kandryl at the head. This was a person of importance indeed, if Kandryl was coming to watch. Behind him was a short person flanked by two guards. The nearer guard blocked Eriane’s view, so that he was unable to see who it was, but whoever it was looked to be too short to be either Creole or Christopher. Eriane wondered if it was even someone whom he knew. The person did not appear to be being truly guarded, but rather escorted. The guards did not seem to expect any trouble; whoever it was seemed to be offering no sign of resistance. Eriane supposed that whoever it was had no idea of what lay in store for him.
The small group approached the table, and two medics stepped forward to position the individual. It was then that Eriane saw his face. It was Djaisiuk.
Eriane gasped and tried to cry out, but the sounds stuck in his throat. “No!” he exclaimed at last. “Stop! You can’t do this to him!”
Drayl looked down at him disapprovingly. “Calm yourself,” he said sharply. “As you said, it will have no lasting effect.”
“Please, you don’t understand!” Eriane continued. “He doesn’t have the level of tolerance for pain that Faquire, your test subject, has. This will be too much! I know him. You can’t do this to him!”
Drayl looked at him sharply. “Do you mean to say that this will damage him?”
“It very well may. I cannot say that it certainly will, but it may. He is unused to physical pain. He is not normal. Please don’t do this to him!”
Drayl pressed a button, and the medics within the room paused in their work. They had finished strapping Djaisiuk down and had been proceeding to prepare his right foot for the device. They now stood still and waited for orders.
Drayl had walked down to the entrance of the room and was now engaged in conversation Kandryl. Kandryl seemed to consider for a moment what Drayl was saying, and then dismissed him. Drayl returned to Eriane.
“They will be careful,” he said simply. "And if anything goes wrong, that is why you are here."
In the room below, Djaisiuk lay with perfect calm as the medics strapped him to the table. He was prepared. He understood that this was simply the next battle in the war for his will, being fought between himself and Kandryl. He knew that he would soon undergo physical pain. This was unavoidable and therefore no cause for worry. They might dismember him or skin him alive, but it would make no difference in his decision. He did not think that they would kill him, but even if they threatened it, he would remain firm. He would not yield to Kandryl’s commands. He could only hope that this would be the final test and that it would have no long-lasting ill-effects, either mental or physical. Especially mental. Djaisiuk knew that he would not yield, even their torments drove him into madness, but he strongly hoped that that wouldn't happen. In addition, though to a slightly lesser degree, the loss of time to his plan was beginning to annoy him. And if they did drive him to insanity or if they decided to kill him, the consequences to his friends and compatriots due to the continuation of this experiment would be very bad, though in that case it would be out of his hands. Yes, it was all in the capable hands of God, and He would do as He pleased, with or without Djaisiuk. It was that thought which most comforted him now.
It was true that in Djaisiuk’s line of work he rarely experienced physical pain. Djaisiuk knew this. But he also knew that his will power was almost unbreakable. He was stubborn to an extreme, when he wished to be so. He would die before he would yield.
The medics had stopped working for a moment, and Kandryl had left his side, but the latter soon returned and the medics started again. When they had finished at last, Kandryl approached the table and stood at Djaisiuk’s left hand.
“We need not proceed,” he said. “It is your choice.”
For a moment, Djaisiuk made no reply. He lay still, looking up at the ceiling, his face perfectly expressionless. Then, as Kandryl was about to speak again, Djaisiuk swallowed and opened his mouth.
“I will work,” he said slowly.
Kandryl looked a little surprised. “And will you also speak when instructed to do so?” he asked.
This time, Djaisiuk did not reply at all. Kandryl waited, but Djaisiuk gave no indication that he had even heard the question.
“Very well,” said Kandryl at last. He motioned to a medic, and the procedure began.
The first needle entered, and Eriane winced. He then could not hold back a small cry of inner pain as he watched a spasm of pain pass through Djaisiuk. Djaisiuk did not clench his fists as Faquire had done; rather he closed his eyes and tensed the muscles in his arms and neck. He also began to tremble slightly. Eriane saw that Djaisiuk’s lips were parted, and he had already begun to breathe a little deeper than was usual for him.
Kandryl bent over him and said something, but Djaisiuk’s eyes remained closed and he made no response.
The second needle entered, and Djaisiuk cried out a little with the pain. It was the same with the third and fourth. Djaisiuk’s breathing was ragged. He was pale and sweating. Eriane had never seen him this way, and it tore at his heart and conscience to watch.
When the fifth needle entered, Eriane frowned a little in mingled confusion and concern and leaned forward, watching Djaisiuk’s face closely. Something was wrong. As the sixth needle entered, Djaisiuk gasped strangely, opened his eyes, and looked up at the ceiling with bleared eyes.
“Stop!” Eriane exclaimed. “He’s about to lose consciousness!”
Even as he spoke, Djaisiuk’s eyes rolled back, and he went completely limp. At that same moment, the seventh needle entered, but Djaisiuk did not move.
Kandryl held up a hand, indicating to the medics to stop the machine, and bent forward over Djaisiuk. He then gave another sign and both of the medics jumped forward to revive him.
Eriane looked down at Djaisiuk, still frowning in confusion. He had done it intentionally; Eriane could see that. Djaisiuk had done something on purpose that had caused himself to pass out. It hadn’t been due to the pain, although that may have been the reason that Djaisiuk had done it, but it hadn’t been natural. From the movements of the medics and the expression on Kandryl’s face, it appeared to Eriane that the others in the room didn’t realize this fact.
Eriane again turned to Drayl. “Please let me go to him!” he pleaded. “I am very familiar with him, and I know how best to treat him. Please let me attend to him.”
Drayl shook his head. “You are not needed in there,” he said. “The medics are well trained. He’ll be fine.”
“I was permitted to attend Faquire yesterday,” argued Eriane. “Why not Djaisiuk today?”
“Yesterday was a test,” said Drayl, beginning to sound annoyed. “We had to be certain that all was in readiness for today. You, being Komislavian, were the most obvious choice to perform the analysis afterward. This is not a test; you will not be needed unless something goes wrong.”
“Wouldn't you say that something has gone wrong?”
“Have you never seen torture before now?” scoffed Drayl. “No, I would not say that 'something has gone wrong.' He is still breathing, and there is no visible damage. After you've been here for a few months, I'll show you what I mean by 'something going wrong.'”
Eriane bit his lip and turned back to watch the room below in an agony of pain, anger, and confusion. He could not even order his thoughts to reply to Drayl. He struggled to ignore the words and the images that they evoked and to concentrated on Djaisiuk.
The medics had successfully revived Djaisiuk, and he lay still now with his eyes closed. His face was white and covered with sweat. His breathing was light and irregular. Even so, he did not look at Kandryl or acknowledge him when the other spoke to him.
At a motion from Kandryl, the procedure continued. Eriane couldn’t watch anymore. He closed his eyes and began to pray. He prayed for God’s forgiveness for himself for assisting in the creation this horrible device; he prayed that the Lord would be with Faquire and would help his wounds to heal; he prayed for the Lord’s Spirit to strengthen Djaisiuk and to be with him throughout this horrible procedure. And he prayed too that it would end quickly.
At last it was over. When Eriane felt Drayl relax somewhat, he raised his eyes. Djaisiuk was conscious, but his eyes were still closed and his muscles were relaxed. His slightly irregular breathing alone told Eriane that Djaisiuk was not asleep or unconscious. The medics within the room busied themselves with coating the many small wounds as Eriane had done with Faquire on the day previous. Eriane again asked for permission to go to Djaisiuk, but still Drayl refused it.
“No,” Drayl told him. “We are finished here. We will leave now.”
Eriane knew that entreaties were useless, so he forced his eyes away from the room below and followed Drayl out of the alcove.
“You were right,” mused Drayl as they walked down the hall together. “This one seems to have a very low tolerance for pain. Even so, I cannot imagine that little toy breaking the will of anyone short of a Londarian. If he had submitted, I would have been disappointed.”
Eriane did not answer. His inner turmoil was too great to describe. How could they do this to Djaisiuk? Why? What had he possibly done to deserve this? Eriane had to fight to hold back the tears as they approached the medical research area where he was now expected to return to work as usual for the rest of the day.
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