Eriane passed a fitful night. He tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep, to escape from the torment of decisions and questions to which he had no answers. But when he did eventually fall asleep, he was plagued by dark and evil dreams. When morning finally came, he felt himself no nearer to a decision than he had been on the night previous.
Eriane felt sure that he must stop working for the Vukasovians. True, they now had him researching a cure for a congenital disease, and this research could not be called evil. But after having been tricked, as he felt certain that he had been in the matter of the torture device, he no longer trusted any work which they gave to him. He would not continue to serve them! They were evil!
And yet the thought of leaving the other boys was more than he could bear. From what Faquire had said, Eriane guessed that those three did not see one another. To be locked away, alone, never receiving word or news of the others, and to be forced to endure this not only day after day but week after week and possibly month after month was something that Eriane did not even want to imagine. The thought of being locked away in a prison cell for the rest of his life with no hope of ever seeing his friends or family again was enough to drive him insane. No, he couldn't go through with it!
But if he were to continue to obey them without question, then what would stop them from again giving him such an assignment as they had before? And if they did, then what would be the difference between refusing them then and refusing them now? Surely it would be better to stop now while it was still clear why he was doing it. He must make a stand now and not waver from it. He must show that he would not be used to further the ambitions of a sadistic, power-hungry race, no matter what the consequences.
The faces of the other eight who now served the Vukasovians came again to Eriane's mind. Could he leave them? Suppose something were to happen to one of them. Suppose they were to need medical assistance. If he were a prisoner, Eriane knew that he would probably not even be told about it, whereas if he were still working for the Vukasovians, he might even be allowed to treat them himself. If he continued to work well and showed the Vukasovians that he could be trusted, mightn't it be possible that he would eventually be allowed to tend to the other three who were imprisoned? No, Eriane told himself; that would never be possible. No matter how well he played the part, they would never accept him to that degree; not unless he joined them so completely as to be no longer the same person that he now was.
It was this last thought that bothered Eriane most. True, he was now working only to help and to heal, but how could he be certain that in doing so in this environment he could continue to keep himself pure from their evil influence? Mightn't it be possible that continual exposure to them as fellow workers would begin to taint Eriane himself, even without his knowing it? Yes; it was more than possible: it was likely. Eriane knew in his heart what he must do. But he was still afraid to do it.
It was with a great effort that Eriane at last arose from his bed. He prayed fervently that the Lord would be with him and give him strength to do what he knew he must do. As he prepared to leave his room, he considered that Drayl would by now be wondering where he was. Thinking of Drayl made it easier for him to steel himself. Holding his head high with confidence that he did not feel, Eriane left his sleeping room and walked resolutely towards Kandryl's quarters.
When he arrived, Eriane was told that Kandryl was not there; he was tending to some matter in the Wru section. Eriane hesitated at first, unsure of how to proceed. He had not expected this. Should he wait for Kandryl to return, or should he seek him? Deciding that nothing would be gained by delaying the inevitable, Eriane asked where exactly in the section Kandryl might be found. He was given directions, and he left.
The distance was not far, but it was far enough to allow Eriane time to again steel himself in his resolve. He had now made his decision, and he would stick to it, regardless of the consequences.
Kandryl was speaking with a lower officer when Eriane entered the room. Looking up, Kandryl seemed mildly surprised to see him there. He made no comment, however, but simply finished with the officer, dismissed him, and turned to Eriane.
“Well, doctor?” he asked.
Eriane swallowed. “Sir,” he began, trying to keep his voice from sounding as nervous as he felt. “I cannot serve you any longer.”
Kandryl’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing.
“I . . . I cannot in good conscience continue to work for you or your people,” Eriane continued. “You may do what you like to me, but I will no longer serve you.”
Without a word, Kandryl turned away and walked to a terminal that sat against one of the walls. Eriane could not see exactly what he was doing and could not, therefore, be sure of whether KandrylEriane quietly waited, slightly confused, for Kandryl to say something. After a few moments, Kandryl finished what he was doing and turned back to Eriane.
“Come with me,” instructed Kandryl simply as he stepped towards the exit.
Eriane followed silently, still trying to hold himself steady. He had not known exactly what to expect, and he still did not. He had, at least, expected Kandryl to say something -- to attempt to make him continue working or to threaten him if he did not. He had not expected silence. And yet Kandryl said nothing as they walked through the halls.
Soon they entered the medical section, and Eriane began to grow a little more nervous, wondering whether they were going to simply return to the area in which he was accustomed to work, or, even worse, whether Kandryl would now seek Drayl to speak with Eriane. To his mild relief but also confusion, they did neither.
Kandryl led Eriane into the medical treatment and research section and entered a large room where several doctors and medics were working. One of the doctors approached them, and he and Kandryl exchanged a few quiet words. The doctor then picked up a scanner and accompanied them as Kandryl led Eriane through the large room and into a smaller adjoining room. Within this room, there were two small medical beds, only one of which was occupied. In the bed lay a young Vukasovian. He was either asleep or unconscious, but Eriane could not tell which. Kandryl motioned to the doctor, and the latter extended the scanner to Eriane.
“Examine him,” Kandryl instructed Eriane, motioning to the young Vukasovian.
Eriane looked up at him in surprise.
“Why?” he asked.
“I will explain after you have examined him,” replied Kandryl.
Eriane hesitated at first, unsure of whether or not he ought to obey, but then took the scanner from the doctor, stepped forward, and began the scan. What he found was, to him as a doctor, more than a little disturbing. The boy was certainly young, as he looked, but his internal organs were completely ravaged by some strange disease with which Eriane was not familiar. He was unconscious from a long-term anesthetic that was apparently being reapplied every day or so. It seemed that other drugs were being given to him to assist in sustaining his life, but unless the disease itself was eradicated soon, the boy would not live much longer. Even if it were, the damage done was incredible and would not easily be repaired.
Eriane finished the scan and turned to look at Kandryl, still a little confused. Kandryl said nothing to him, but simply turned to the Vukasovian doctor.
“How long do you estimate that the boy has to live?” asked Kandryl.
“Two months is the current estimate,” replied the doctor. “That would be the maximum time that we could keep him alive.”
“How old is he?”
“He had just turned twelve, sir.”
Kandryl nodded once and then turned back to Eriane.
“You had been assigned to assist with a group that is attempting to find a cure for a congenital disease that affects our people,” he said. “Witness now the end result of that disease.” He motioned again to the young boy. “This boy will die. There is nothing that can be done for him. And unless a cure can be found, many others will also die.”
Eriane looked back at the boy. He had expected Kandryl to try to make him continue to work, and he had mentally prepared himself to resist any argument that Kandryl might make, but he had not been prepared for something like this. He was a doctor; everything within him rose up at the sight of this young boy, calling him to do everything in his power to save him. Eriane lowered his eyes, struggling within himself again.
“What is the longest that anyone has lived who had this disease?” Kandryl asked, turning again to the Vukasovian doctor.
“Thus far, fifteen years,” answered the doctor. “But there is one now who is fourteen years, and his condition is still dormant. We do not know when the disease will begin to affect him.”
“Are there any with the disease who work in this facility?”
The doctor drew out his parchment and consulted a few records. He then nodded. “Yes, sir,” he said.
“There are two workers and one laborer.”
“Summon the workers.”
“No,” said Eriane, looking up at Kandryl now.
Kandryl turned to Eriane again and looked at him expectantly.
“I know what you are trying to do,” Eriane continued slowly. “But I know too that you have many capable doctors researching this disease. I am not even Vukasovian; I am certainly not the best to be doing this. You do not need me.” He paused and swallowed again. “I still stand by my decision.”
Kandryl looked at him for a long moment and then dismissed the doctor. When the latter had left the room, Kandryl closed the door and turned again to Eriane.
“You are upset because of what has happened to your friends and because of the part that you played in it,” he said. “But know this: that machine would have been created with or without your assistance. You merely stood as the shield between your friends and permanent injury. You have no experience in the infliction of pain, but you are proficient in both correcting and preventing damage; that was why you were used. You have been used to harm no one. Your assistance only helped to make the machine safe. Think of what could have been had you not assisted: your friend Faquire may have been permanently injured. You did not in any way add to his sufferings; rather you diminished them.”
"Had I not assisted, you might not have used it at all," returned Eriane. "Drayl assured me that no permanent damage was to be done to either Faquire or Djaisiuk. If he was unsure of whether it would do so, he might not have used it at all."
"There you are mistaken," said Kandryl. "The device was created without you, and it would also have been used, whether or not you had helped to make it safe."
"So be it," said Eriane. "Regardless, I will not serve you or your race any longer."
Kandryl emitted what might have been a very soft sigh. "I understand your disdain for our . . . methods of persuasion," he said. "I had not thought that you would mind being used to ensure the safety of such a device; obviously I was wrong. If you so wish it, your assistance in that area will not be requested again. I will instruct your supervisors that you are to work in the area of medicine only: specifically in the realm of researching cures for diseases. You need not fear that you will ever again be party to something that might be considered detrimental to anyone's well-being."
Eriane shook his head. "No," he said. "As I said earlier, you have many capable doctors already. You don't need me."
"You are a doctor," said Kandryl in a low voice. "And yet you refuse to help others?"
This question (or accusation) struck Eriane sharply. It was with difficulty that he maintained a firm expression and a steady voice to reply.
"I do," he said. "In this situation, yes, I do. There are others who can help those who need help. I refuse."
Kandryl turned and walked slowly to the medical bed, looking down at the young Vukasovian lying there unconscious.
"'Others,' you say," repeated Kandryl, still speaking quietly. "Yes, there are many others. But have you any concept of the need?" He paused and turned back to look at Eriane before continuing. “You believe us to be cold-hearted and unfeeling,” he said, “and you are partially correct. It is the impression which we like to give, and it is what we prefer others to believe. You have been forced to watch your friends suffer pain, but we are forced to watch our children die, day after day. Komislavians have few diseases, and those which they have seldom affect their children. It is not so with Vukasovians; nearly three-fourths of our sons and daughters die before they reach adulthood. There are more diseases that afflict our race than you can imagine. You could never find the cures to all of them; indeed, it would take several lifetimes to find the cures to half of them, but we do what we can. It is in this endeavor that I ask your assistance. In this battle, we must make use of every asset available to us.”
Kandryl paused and continued to look at Eriane. Eriane stared up at him. He was shocked by this speech, and he didn’t know what to think. His face must have displayed his inner struggles, for Kandryl softened his voice slightly and continued.
“You are still young,” he said. “You have no children. It is not so with many of the men of this facility. Drayl is a father; the doctor who just left us is a father; most of the supervisors of your friends are fathers. And many of these have already had to watch their sons die. You, being Komislavian as well as being young, cannot know how it feels for a father to know that his son is going to die and that there is nothing that he can do to prevent it.”
Kandryl stopped again and turned away. Eriane lowered his eyes, but did not speak. This was one argument which he had not foreseen. Could it be true? He knew that there were many birth defects and genetic maladies common to Vukasovians -- mostly due to the genetic manipulation used on the pre-born babies -- but he had had no idea of the magnitude. Three-fourths! Could it be possible? And these were only the ones who died as children. How many more died as young adults? Eriane had noticed that most of the members of the facility were young; indeed, excepting the guards, only the supervisors and a few of the doctors were grown men. All of the orderlies were boys; all of the assistants were boys; even the medics were young men. But Eriane had assumed that this was due to the facility's status as an "experimental facility." Was all of Vukosava like this?
So many thoughts ran through Eriane's head, one after another. How many Vukasovians watched their children die before them? And how many of the young Vukasovians knew that they were going to die? Could this be one of the reasons that they all seemed so hard and cruel? Was it only a front to shield the pain and anguish that so many of them felt or had experienced? Could it be that Drayl himself had had to see his own child die a possibly slow and painful death and that that was why he now seemed to find pleasure in inflicting pain on others? Was it not possible that he was simply trying to alleviate the pain that he himself felt? It certainly did not excuse his actions, but it made Eriane almost pity him, knowing that this could be the reason that he was the way that he was.
He had decided not to work for them anymore, Eriane reminded himself. He could not continue to help this race to advance in any way; they were evil, all of them. But now the voices of the children of Vukosava seemed to rise up and to call for his help. So many lives were being lost every day, and Eriane might have the ability to save at least a few of them, if he chose.
But surely the Vukasovians had a sufficient number of others who could answer the call, Eriane argued to himself. Surely they didn’t need him! Eriane had determined to make a stand and not to waver from this resolution. He had mentally prepared himself to resist all arguments that Kandryl might make, regardless of how logical they seemed. He must not allow himself to be “used” again. But if he were being used to help others, then did he truly have the right to refuse?
“I could threaten you, doctor,” said Kandryl in a low voice, interrupting Eriane’s thoughts. “I could easily lock you in a cell and give you both of the two workers who now bear this disease as your constant companions. I could even place this young boy with you and allow you to watch him die, slowly."
Eriane felt a cold chill run through him at this thought. He shuddered and looked up at Kandryl again, trying to hide the horror that he felt.
"But I will not do so," Kandryl continued, turning now to look at Eriane again. "I will not force you to work for us, but neither will I imprison you if you refuse. You are a doctor; you are a genius; as such, you are invaluable to us for the lives that you can save, if you so choose. I know that you are upset at the moment and that perhaps you cannot think beyond your own pain just now. I understand this, and I will not attempt to force you to make a decision at this time. Take the rest of the day to think. You need not work today. Go to your quarters, if you like. When you have made your decision, you may come to me again, but you are free to take as much time as you require.”
Eriane looked hard at Kandryl. He searched the other’s face, but Kandryl kept his emotions hidden well. Could it all be true? Might this be a lie? Kandryl did not seem to look quite as hard and cold as he was wont to look, but neither was any sign of pity or compassion allowed to show either. Eriane was sure that if this were simply a ruse meant to manipulate Eriane's emotions to make him continue working for them, then surely Kandryl would have feigned emotion of his own. And yet he betrayed nothing of what he felt.
Kandryl returned Eriane’s gaze for a moment, then turned and silently opened the door. He motioned him to precede him out of the room, and Eriane obeyed. No words were exchanged as they walked out of the large medical room and down the halls to where their ways parted. Eriane then turned and looked up at Kandryl. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Kandryl looked down at him silently for a moment, then spoke.
"If you decide that you will continue your work, then you need not come to me again, if you do not wish it," said Kandryl. "You may simply return to your work area. I will send word to them that you were elsewhere this morning by my orders. You need explain your actions to no one." Glancing back down the hall in the direction of the medical observation room which they had just left, he continued, "If you wish to see the young boy again whom we just left, you have my permission to do so. No one will deny you access."
Eriane closed his mouth again. He tried to hide the struggle that he again felt, but it was difficult. He stood still for a very long moment, then finally turned without a word and continued down the hall towards his assigned work area.
Kandryl looked after Eriane until the latter was out of sight, then turned and walked again towards the general medical section. As he went, he could not suppress a smile of triumph. One needed only to know the weaknesses of another in order to fully control him, he considered. These boys were Komislavian, and when their emotions could be properly manipulated (without them realizing what was being done), they were perfectly compliant. Perhaps that was why Djaisiuk frustrated him so: it seemed that he had no emotions to manipulate.
Rather than returning immediately to his own quarters, Kandryl sought out Drayl in the medical section. He indicated to the latter that he wished to speak with him alone. Once they were away from the other medics and doctors, Kandryl turned to Drayl and spoke bluntly.
“How is your son, Drayl?” asked Kandryl.
Drayl frowned at him incredulously. “What?” he asked.
“Your son,” repeated Kandryl. “You have a son, haven’t you?”
“I have two.”
“Two! That’s even better. How are they? Or rather, where are they?”
“One is working under Kr. Trinoi, and the other is still in training.”
“Have you seen either of them recently, say, within the last few months?”
“No.”
“Have you spoken with their supervisors recently?”
“No.”
“Drayl, they’re your sons,” said Kandryl in a sarcastic tone of voice. “Don’t you care about them?”
Drayl crossed his arms over his chest. “So long as they’re alive and continue well, no, I don’t,” he responded contemptuously. “Would you expect it of me?”
“No, of course I wouldn’t,” said Kandryl with his characteristic half-smile, half-sneer. “But don’t let the Komislavian doctor know that.”
Drayl frowned again. “What?”
“I wanted to warn you that he may ask you about your sons,” continued Kandryl. “I told him that you were a father.”
Drayl snorted in disgust and looked at Kandryl, obviously annoyed. “I hope that you didn’t attribute to me any of the petty Komislavian weaknesses of character that they generally associate with the term ‘father.’” Drayl practically spat the word as if it offended him.
“No, I didn’t,” Kandryl assured him, shaking his head. “But neither did I deny that you felt them. I left him to draw his own conclusions, and I would advise you to do likewise. If he doesn’t question you, very good, but if he does question you, then it would be better if you didn’t malign your sons or your role as their father to him. His Komislavian mind is not yet ready for that. In time, perhaps, he may be able to accept our ways a little better, but for now, I want him to think that we are more like his race than we really are.”
Drayl turned up his lip in disgust and shook his head. “I will not play such a part for anyone. If he asks me, then I will tell him what I have told you. My sons are such that I have reason to be proud of them; I would not malign them to anyone. But as for what you call my 'role as their father,' don't think that I would ever claim any sort of emotional attachment to either of them, even if you commanded me to do so. You may not mind feigning weakness in order to achieve your goals, but I will not!”
Kandryl frowned. “Then tell him that your sons are dead,” he said firmly. “Better that than to say that you don't care about them. If he asks you, then I want you tell him that they have died. Use any reason you like: they died in war, or by disease, or in an accident. I don’t care. You can say that you have no wish to discuss it; you can say whatever you like, but under no circumstances are you to imply to him that you care nothing for them.”
“I didn’t say that I care nothing for them,” said Drayl. “It’s simply that I understand that they are very easily replaced. I have never had difficulty in producing valuable offspring.” He gave a slight sneer with this last statement.
Kandryl looked at him silently for a moment, suppressing a frown as he tried to keep his face impassive.
“If he does ask you,” said Kandryl at last, “then I’ll want you to report it to me. I will want to know exactly what he asks and what you reply. I’ll then also want to know his reaction to whatever you say.”
“As you wish,” said Drayl with a slight shrug. “As you are fond of reminding me, you are the one in charge.”
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