Once they had left the eating room, Djaisiuk fell back and allowed the Vukasovian to lead the way. Eriane and Wysire walked quietly beside Djaisiuk. Eriane once ventured to ask Djaisiuk softly whether he would mind telling them what this was all about, but Djaisiuk only made a short motion with his hand, indicating that Eriane should wait. So they walked in silence down several more halls. After only a few minutes, they saw Kandryl walking down the hall toward them. They stopped and waited for him to approach.
Kandryl dismissed the escort and turned to the three boys.
“I understand that you have been to visit your three companions,” he said to Wysire.
Wysire blinked. “Yes, I have,” he said simply.
“I understand further that you have deep concerns for the well-being of the youngest one; also that you are unsure as to whether even you and your medical friend here, working together, would be able to bring him back to health.”
Wysire frowned, wondering where this was headed.
“We would be very grateful for an opportunity to try,” said Eriane.
“You may be given that opportunity,” said Kandryl. “I have summoned your compatriot Djaisiuk now, as a test of his great intelligence, to attempt to remedy his companion’s condition himself. I allow him to bring the two of you along as his assistants, if he pleases.”
Eriane and Wysire glanced at Djaisiuk, but the latter remained staring resolutely at the floor.
“If he fails, then I will allow you to try yourself,” continued Kandryl. “I merely want you both to understand that at this time you are here as assistants. I am asking Djaisiuk to heal his compatriot; not you. You may of course help if he wishes.”
With that, Kandryl turned and led them down several more halls. Wysire recognized the way, but Eriane had never been to the holding cells before. He looked around himself curiously as they went. Djaisiuk had, of course, never been here before either, but he maintained his watch on the floors, taking no apparent interest in his surroundings.
When they at last reached the desired section, they were met by a doctor carrying a medical scanner. This man exchanged a few brief words with Kandryl then joined the group as they walked on. A few short passages further, and Kandryl stopped before a door at which a guard was stationed. The guard saluted and stepped back, and Kandryl opened the door and stepped back himself, motioning Djaisiuk to enter.
Djaisiuk entered the room without hesitation, followed closely by Wysire, Eriane, Kandryl, and the doctor. Faquire was lying on the small bed on his back, his head at the end nearest the door. He eyes were open, fixed immovably on the ceiling, and his breathing was so light as to be quite inaudible, although one could see the very slight rise and fall of his chest from time to time. Wysire, Eriane, Kandryl, and the doctor stood by the door and watched as Djaisiuk walked straight to the bed on which Faquire was lying. Faquire had not moved as the group entered and made no reaction now as Djaisiuk bent over him.
Djaisiuk lowered himself onto one knee next to the bed and turned Faquire’s face slightly towards himself. He then used his right thumb to push back Faquire’s left eyelid to examine the eye. Letting go, he turned Faquire’s head back to its original position and, laying his hand across Faquire’s face, pressed his thumb and middle finger to Faquire’s temples. Faquire did not react to any of this.
“Ephinamin,” said Djaisiuk in hoarse voice, not raising his eyes.
“Ephinamin?” the doctor repeated. “Yes, we’ve tried that. It did increase the heartbeat and brain waves for a short time, but he did not react otherwise.”
Djaisiuk turned to look at the doctor but did not speak.
“I think that he wants you to try it again,” Eriane offered quietly.
The doctor sighed and turned to Kandryl. “Sir, we’ve tried it already,” he said, “and it didn’t–”
“Try it again,” interrupted Kandryl firmly.
The doctor shook his head slightly and shrugged as he opened his communicator. “Is there any particular dose you’d like?” he asked Djaisiuk.
“Five,” came the immediate reply.
“Five?!” exclaimed the doctor. “You’re not going to get any reaction with five. We tried fifty, and it barely lasted above two minutes.”
“He said five,” said Kandryl authoritatively.
The doctor sighed and spoke into his communicator, then turned again to Djaisiuk. “Anything else?”
“Melactosin,” replied Djaisiuk, turning back to Faquire and taking hold of the latter's left wrist.
The doctor arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you expect that to do? It won’t help, I can assure you.”
Djaisiuk did not answer. Kandryl looked at the doctor, and the doctor understood. He lifted his communicator again.
“I suppose you’d like a dose two?” he asked Djaisiuk, half-sarcastically.
“Twelve,” said Djaisiuk, not looking up.
“Sir, he’s just making up numbers now,” said the doctor, lowering his communicator and turning again to Kandryl. “He obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about. There isn’t a dose twelve of melactosin.”
“Then make one,” Kandryl replied.
The doctor looked a little taken aback and opened his mouth again to argue but stopped, seeing Kandryl’s look. He obediently spoke again into his communicator, ordering the necessary procedures to create the unusual dose of the required drug.
Djaisiuk examined Faquire's lower arm with his fingers, then stood up and stepped back from the bed. He crossed his arms and stood still, staring vaguely at the floor, his face perfectly expressionless.
“Is that how he looks when he’s thinking?” asked the doctor.
“I imagine that that’s how he looks when he’s waiting for his requested materials to arrive,” Kandryl replied with a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice.
The doctor frowned, but did not dare to reply in kind. “They’ll be here soon,” was all that he said.
And soon a young medic appeared with a syringe and a small flat cylinder which he handed to the doctor. He then quietly withdrew. The doctor offered them wordlessly to Djaisiuk, but Djaisiuk did not take them. He instead motioned with his head towards Eriane, indicating that they should be given to him. Eriane wordlessly accepted and administered the drugs. Djaisiuk then stepped up to the bed, lowered himself again on one knee, and gently closed Faquire’s eyes.
Glancing up at the doctor, Djaisiuk said simply, “Go.”
The doctor looked positively offended. “Are you ordering me to leave?” he demanded.
Djaisiuk ignored him, however, and turned back to Faquire. The doctor gaped at him.
“He said leave,” said Kandryl. “Leave.”
The doctor looked at him half-incredulously. “Will you still want this?” he asked at last, holding out the medical scanner.
“Give it to him,” said Kandryl, indicating Eriane.
The doctor obeyed grudgingly, and sulkily left. Kandryl smiled to himself. Djaisiuk was a Komislavian, it was true, but he seemed to be acting more and more like a Vukasovian every day. Each action tonight had raised him in Kandryl’s esteem. Kandryl began to feel surer of the success of this experiment than he had up to this point. It seemed almost as though Djaisiuk enjoyed being with the Vukasovians, as though this was who he truly was. If only Kandryl could finally trust Djaisiuk! If he would but join them in truth, nothing would be impossible.
For a moment they all waited in silence. Very soon Faquire’s breathing grew a little deeper. Without a word, Djaisiuk took hold of the front of Faquire’s shirt and pulled him into a sitting position. Faquire’s eyes opened again, but they still seemed to see nothing. Djaisiuk was undaunted. He stood, still holding Faquire by the shirt with his right hand, and took hold of Faquire’s legs with his left and pulled them over the side of the bed. He then again took hold of the front of Faquire’s shirt with both hands this time, braced his right knee against Faquire's left, and, with a little effort, considering the slight size and definite weight difference between the two, pulled Faquire up to a standing position.
Faquire now looked Djaisiuk straight in the eye, though his expression had not changed. No one could say whether he truly saw anything.
Eriane, Wysire, and Kandryl watched this proceeding with interest. Djaisiuk did not utter a word. He had stepped back a little, though he still held Faquire firmly by the shirt. He simply stood, perfectly impassive, looking now slightly up at Faquire who, although four years Djaisiuk’s junior, was still at least two inches taller than was Djaisiuk.
Faquire looked at Djaisiuk for a moment, then slowly his head began to bow forward and his eyes lowered, his body looking as though it would fold in on itself. Djaisiuk still held him, but it looked as though Faquire would certainly collapse if Djaisiuk were to let go. Eriane started to move forward, thinking to catch Faquire should he fall, but was stopped at a quick glance from Djaisiuk.
Djaisiuk took Faquire’s chin in his left hand, still holding tightly onto his shirt with his right, and lifted Faquire's face again. He then took hold of the shirt with his left hand, raised his right hand, and suddenly slapped Faquire hard across the face.
Wysire gasped and Eriane gave a short exclamation, quickly suppressed. Neither could believe what they had just seen. Eriane was quite beside himself. They each restrained themself however with difficulty and continued to watch Djaisiuk. Even Kandryl seemed surprised at this last act, though he had learned to have no expectations when it came to Djaisiuk.
Faquire’s face at last seemed to show a very little bit of life: he looked at least slightly surprised. Djaisiuk turned Faquire’s face toward himself again, and Faquire looked at him, his mouth now open slightly. Some of the lethargy seemed to have left Faquire’s body. He still stood uncertainly, but it seemed to be somewhat more in his own strength now.
Djaisiuk gently pushed Faquire back and lowered him down onto the cot again. Faquire’s head tilted upwards as he sat down so that he continued to look at Djaisiuk. Djaisiuk carefully let go, and Faquire sat still, still looking Djaisiuk in the eye. Djaisiuk crossed his arms again, still returning Faquire’s gaze, and waited.
For a short time the two stayed thus in silence. At last, Faquire closed his mouth and swallowed slowly.
“Djaisiuk?” he asked in a hoarse, quiet voice.
Immediately Djaisiuk turned away. Walking back toward the door, he motioned Eriane to go to Faquire. Eriane needed no more encouragement. He jumped forward quickly and dropped to one knee beside Faquire, taking one of Faquire’s hands in his own.
“Faquire,” he said eagerly. “Faquire, are you alright?”
Faquire did not look at him, however, but continued to stare at Djaisiuk.
“Faquire!” called Eriane. “Faquire, it’s Eriane! Can’t you hear me?” He looked at Wysire helplessly.
“Faquire, we’re here,” said Wysire, stepping forward. “It’s alright; you’re safe.”
Faquire still gave no indication that he heard. He continued to look at Djaisiuk. Hearing his breathing begin to grow lighter again, Eriane turned also to Djaisiuk.
“Djaisiuk, he won’t answer me,” said Eriane. “I don’t know whether he even hears me.”
Without a word, Djaisiuk turned and walked back to the cot. Faquire’s eyes followed him until he stood before him. Djaisiuk then took Faquire’s chin firmly in his hand and tilted it up slightly to face himself. Eriane and Wysire both tensed, afraid lest Djaisiuk might strike Faquire again, but Djaisiuk did not hit him. He merely held Faquire’s face there for a moment, then turned it towards Eriane and let go. Faquire blinked.
Taking his cue from Djaisiuk, Eriane raised a hand and pressed it gently to Faquire’s cheek. “Can you hear me, Faquire?” he asked.
Faquire’s lips moved slowly. At last, he spoke. “Yes,” he said softly.
Eriane smiled in joy and relief. “Oh, Faquire!” he exclaimed. “I’m so glad. And can you see me too?”
Faquire nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said.
Turning Faquire’s face gently towards Wysire, Eriane asked, “And can you see Wysire too?”
Faquire was quiet for a moment, and then said quietly, “Wysire.”
“Yes, Faquire,” said Wysire softly. “It’s me.”
Faquire blinked again a few times and looked slowly around the room, moving his head of his own accord now. He looked slightly confused.
“Where am I?” he asked.
“I’m done,” said Djaisiuk abruptly, turning to Kandryl, and then indicated the doorway, implying that he wished to leave now.
Kandryl raised his eyebrows and looked back at the other three. They sat or stood still, not seeming to know what to say. Eriane and Wysire both looked confused but said nothing. They simply watched and waited. Kandryl smiled, impressed, as usual, with Djaisiuk, particularly with how successful he’d been in so short a time when the Vukasovian doctors had failed so miserably and even the Komislavian “counselor” had seemed hopeless. Indeed, what Djaisiuk had done that had proved so successful still eluded him. The doctors had tried all sorts of stimuli, both mental and physical, but nothing had worked. Djaisiuk was as impossible to understand as he was to predict, Kandryl decided.
"Have you healed him completely?" asked Kandryl. "Or do you want these two to remain with him?"
"No; yes," said Djaisiuk, not looking at Kandryl.
Kandryl looked at him, tilting his head to one side, wondering whether he ought to pursue this. He understood perfectly what Djaisiuk meant, but it might be pleasant to torment him in forcing him to speak more to explain himself. He quickly decided against this however, due to the presence of Eriane and Wysire. He said nothing, therefore, and simply stepped back, allowing Djaisiuk access to the door of the cell. Djaisiuk walked out, but Kandryl did not immediately follow. He glanced back at the boys still in the room.
"Doctor," he said.
Eriane looked up at him.
"Is there a dose twelve of melactosin on Komislava?" Kandryl asked.
Eriane thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I've never heard of one," he answered.
Kandryl smiled to himself, nodded, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving Eriane and Wysire alone with Faquire.
Eriane and Wysire looked at one another, neither seeming to be sure of what to do next. They neither of them wanted to make a mistake. Fortunately, Faquire spoke first.
“I’m hungry,” said Faquire, still speaking in a slow, weak voice.
“I’ll see what I can do about that right now,” said Eriane. He jumped up and went to the door. There he exchanged a few words with the guard while Wysire continued to talk to Faquire.
“Do you feel alright otherwise?” asked Wysire.
“I . . . I think so,” answered Faquire, speaking very slowly and haltingly. “It’s hard to tell . . . . I haven’t been eating properly, have I?”
“No, you probably haven’t,” said Wysire, smiling broadly at such a long sentence from him. “We’ll see what we can do about that, but you mustn’t worry about your food now. It may not be up to your normal standards, but it’ll have to do for a while yet.”
Eriane returned. “The guard is going to fetch you something to eat now,” he said. “It shouldn’t take more than a minute or two. In the meantime, would you mind if I performed a quick medical scan, Faquire? It would help my mind to rest easier.”
Faquire looked at him for a moment as if trying to process what he had said. At last he nodded. “That’s fine,” he said.
Eriane held the scanner about a foot from Faquire and moved it slowly up and down in front of him, watching the readout constantly. Faquire raised his right hand and gently massaged his throat with a puzzled expression.
“It hurts to talk,” he said. “I don’t know why.”
“It’s probably because you haven’t spoken in so long,” said Eriane, intent on the scanner and not looking at him. “Your muscles will take time to loosen to where it doesn’t hurt. It’ll get better as you speak more, though it may get a little worse before it begins to improve.”
“Is this what Djaisiuk feels when he speaks?” asked Faquire.
“Probably,” replied Eriane. He finished the scan and powered down the scanner. “You are definitely weak and slightly malnourished, but nothing dangerous,” he said. “If you’re careful and eat well, you should be fine in a few days.”
He had scarcely finished speaking when the guard returned with a medic. The medic carried a food tray which he set down carefully on the cot, looking cautiously at Faquire the whole time. He looked almost as though he were afraid of him. Once he had delivered the tray, the medic and guard both withdrew.
Eriane helped Faquire to eat at first, and then Faquire fed himself after he had eaten a little. The food seemed to increase both his strength and awareness. He again looked around the room as he finished.
“Where are we?” he asked.
Eriane swallowed. “We’re prisoners,” he said. “We’re on a Vukasovian base. We’re standing now in one of their holding cells where you’ve--”
Faquire held up a hand to stop him, and looked down, thinking. “Wait,” he said finally, his voice a little firmer than it had been up to now. “Yes, I remember. . . . Creole refused to serve them, and so did Christopher. I followed Creole . . . and the Vukasovians locked me in here. I remember.” He looked up again and his eyes seemed a little brighter. “That was their leader, wasn’t it? The man with Djaisiuk. He is the one in charge.”
“Yes,” said Eriane. “His name is Kandryl.”
“Kandryl,” Faquire repeated quietly. “Yes, I remember.” Faquire was quiet for a moment, seeming to be thinking hard. Finally he shook his head. “There seem to be gaps in my memory. I know that I was brought here, but I don’t know what happened next. What has happened with everyone else? How long have I been here? How long have you been here? You said that you are prisoners too?”
"I . . . I didn't mean that kind of prisoner," replied Eriane hesitantly. "I just meant that we're all being kept here on Vukosava and not allowed to leave."
“You’ve been in here for just over two weeks,” said Wysire, sitting down on the cot beside Faquire and changing the subject before Eriane went any deeper. “We just came with Djaisiuk tonight, but none of us has been here to see you at all before now, as far as I know, except for me, earlier today.”
“I saw you once,” said Eriane quietly. “Do you remember that?”
Faquire thought hard. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I remember several of you coming, but I don’t think that it was real. There was a point where I couldn’t separate dreaming from waking. I remember you coming, Wysire, and talking to me. But I didn’t say anything.”
“Yes, that was today,” nodded Wysire.
“No, it was a few days ago,” said Faquire. “You had a needle. A syringe, rather. I don’t know what was in it.”
Wysire looked appalled. “That wasn’t me!” he assured Faquire. “That had to have been a dream.”
Faquire nodded slowly. “Yes, I thought that it was. I remember nothing but dreams for a long time. I don't know how long it was. It could have been days or weeks. What happened to me?”
“I don’t know,” said Eriane, concern evident in his voice. “But you’ll need to watch and be careful so that it doesn’t happen again.”
“Djaisiuk seems to think that you’ll be alright now,” said Wysire. “I’m sure that he wouldn’t have left otherwise.”
“I remember . . ." began Faquire. “I think . . . . Did he hit me? Did Djaisiuk hit me?”
Eriane and Wysire exchanged glances, then Eriane nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He did hit you.”
“I felt it,” said Faquire. “I heard the noise, and it hurt. I thought that he had hit me. I couldn’t believe that he would do that, but somehow I knew then that it wasn’t a dream. I felt pain in the dreams, but never from him.” He raised his hand and rubbed his left cheek. “I wouldn’t ever dream such a thing as Djaisiuk hitting me.”
“Do you want something for that?” asked Eriane. “Does it hurt?”
Faquire looked at him and tried to smile. “No,” he said. “It’s strange, I know, but I don’t mind. I don’t think that Djaisiuk has ever struck anyone in his life. I suppose that that makes me special.” He smiled again and gave a quiet sort of exhalation that remotely resembled a laugh.
Eriane and Wysire both smiled brightly, not so much at the words as at the life that seemed to be coming back into Faquire.
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Wysire. “I’d be almost willing to bet that he’s never hit anyone else. I’m not sure that he ever would again either.”
“Where are the others?” asked Faquire. “How are they?”
“Most of them are well,” said Eriane. “Jaeger, Jade, Leil, Detrin, Cycil, and Sandy will be heading towards bed now, I’d think. I imagine that Djaisiuk is too, come to think of it. He stayed up past his usual hour of retiring to come and eat dinner with us. Creole and Christopher are both prisoners like yourself, as you remember, but Wysire says that they are doing fairly well. He was able to visit both of them today.”
Faquire's face fell a little. He was silent for a moment, then asked, "Then you are all working for them?"
Eriane licked his lips, unsure of what to say. Wysire reached forward and laid a hand on Faquire's arm.
"If we weren't, then you would have died, Faquire," he said. "Djaisiuk brought you back, but I doubt that anyone else would have been able to do so. Eriane, would you have known to do what he did?"
"No," Eriane shook his head. "Now that I've seen it, I can understand what he was doing, but I wouldn't have known to do it myself. I certainly wouldn't have hit you, Faquire."
Wysire smiled. "I don't think that any of us would have done that. But somehow it worked."
Faquire was still quiet, and Wysire looked at him with concern.
"You say that there are gaps in your memory," he asked. "How much do you remember?"
Faquire frowned, not looking at them. "Not much," he said. "It's still very unclear." He paused again.
"Can you tell us what you do remember?" asked Wysire encouragingly.
“It’s so strange,” said Faquire slowly. “Apart from the dreams, I don’t remember anything but the first day on the ship. We realized that we were going to be split. You all went with them, and we three did not. Three of the soldiers brought us out of the ship. They were rough, I remember, and had very strong grips.” He unconsciously rubbed his upper right arm at the memory. “We saw Djaisiuk, when we got off of the ship, and realized that he was going to work for them too. I remember that. Then they separated us. I didn’t know if I’d ever see Creole or Christopher or any of you again. It was very frightening. I remember that they brought me in here and left me for a long time; it may have been a day or two. They never turn out the light in here, so I can’t tell whether it’s day or night, except judging by whether or not I’m tired and how often they bring me food. Horrid stuff, that! It's nothing like Komislavian food. I was afraid that I'd die from that long before they decided to kill me. Kandryl came a few times to ask if I’d changed my mind about working for them, but I said that I wouldn’t. I think that I was rude to him. He finally stopped coming.”
Faquire stopped and took a deep breath. “I think that it’s coming back to me, somewhat,” he said, his voice growing a little clearer and stronger the more that he spoke. “I remember more now than I did. I remember that after Kandryl stopped coming, medics would come and draw samples from me and run tests on me. I fought back against them at first. One wanted to draw a blood sample, and I waited until he was near me, then I struck him. I knocked the needle out of his hand and stepped on it. The guards grabbed hold of me and held me, but I continued to struggle, so much so that they couldn’t take the sample. They were very upset, and I thought that it was funny. I still do. I didn’t let them know that I thought that, but I did laugh a little after they left. They try so hard to be superior and condescending to us, but I could make them lose their tempers. They couldn’t control me. They came again later though. This time the guards held me and they injected something into my neck. It made me dizzy, but I could still see and feel everything that was happening, though it all swam before my eyes terribly. They took the samples then and ran a few tests, I think. They left me, but the drug didn’t wear off for an hour or more. I couldn’t stand or even sit. The next day, I still fought, so they used the drug on me again. I didn’t care. I still tried to fight them, but I couldn’t then. I think that I must have put up enough of a fight that day that they had to give me too much of the drug. That was when I first started dreaming and not being able to tell if I was awake. I think that I was awake some of the time, but I kept seeing things and feeling things that weren’t real. It was so strange and terrible! I didn’t know what to do. They left me alone, thankfully, for most of the next day, and I felt that I had recovered. They took me out of here that day, I think. That was the day that I saw you, Eriane; I remember that now. They stabbed my foot terribly with that awful thing. It hurt badly, but it was so much better than that drug that they gave me. It was so nice to see you that day. You told me about the others, didn’t you? You said that they were doing well, I think. I remember you mentioning Creole and Christopher, didn’t you?”
“I did, I think,” replied Eriane. “But I believe that it was only to say that we had had no word of them or of you.”
Faquire nodded. “Yes, that was probably it.” He was quiet for a moment, looking down again as if in thought. His voice was much clearer now, and he seemed almost back to his normal self, though he still seemed very tired. “After that, things went back to how they had been at first,” he continued after a pause. “I still liked to fight them, not because I thought that it would do any good; I just didn’t want them to think that I had stopped caring or that they could scare me. Then they gave me some other drug. It was worse than the one that would make me dizzy. I could still see, but I couldn’t move. I wasn't numb, and I could still feel my arms and legs and all, but I couldn't move. It did something to my mind too. It was like I was falling asleep, but like I never quite did. It’s hard to explain. I felt that I was awake, but that nothing around me was real. I was never awake, but I was never asleep. I saw things and felt things, but none of them were real. But they weren’t dreams either. I tried to fight back, to get back to what was real, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t think either. I fought it for as long as I could, but I finally just stopped trying. It was terrible! I wanted to fight, but I couldn’t. For days I couldn’t. So I stopped trying. I don’t know how long it lasted. I thought that I was dying, but I was afraid that I wasn’t. I was afraid that it might continue forever. I wanted it to end! Then you came with Djaisiuk. But I didn’t know whether he was real either. He had never come in any of the dreams, though it seemed like I would see him in my thoughts sometimes. It’s so hard to explain in words! When he helped me to stand up, I still didn’t know if it was real. I had never stood up in the dreams, because I couldn’t. I had tried, but I couldn’t. It felt more real; like I was in a tunnel where I could see a little bit of the real world, but the false world was still all around me. But I wasn’t entirely sure even then of whether the little bit that was clearer was actually real. I wanted it to be real, but I didn’t think that it was. I didn’t know. I only knew that somehow it was different from the dreams. I wanted to get to it, to the part that was real, but I was afraid to try. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get to it. Then Djaisiuk hit me. I knew that that was real. It couldn’t have been a dream. Somehow I knew that it was real, and then everything started to get clearer. I don’t know how. I almost wanted him to hit me again so that I’d be more sure. But he didn’t. He didn’t even talk to me. That’s why I spoke to him. I wanted to get back to real life. I wanted him to tell me that this was real. But he didn’t." Faquire paused again, looking down at the floor. "Why didn’t he?” he asked at last.
Eriane looked at Wysire, thinking him better equipped to answer the question. Wysire had to think for a moment before he had a possible answer.
“You know that Djaisiuk doesn’t like to talk,” he said. “Probably he knew that it would not be necessary for him to tell you that this was real. I would think that he knew that Eriane and I could do that just as well. So, he left. His own speech was unnecessary. But he did get us started. Also, if he had spoken, you might have thought it a dream, considering the fact that he doesn’t speak much in real life.”
“And now I understand why,” said Faquire, frowning and rubbing his throat again. “My throat hurts terribly, though I think that I’m starting to get used to it. But as far as it having to be a dream because he doesn’t talk much, you must admit that he never hits people in real life either.”
“But he wouldn’t do that even in a dream!” laughed Eriane.
Wysire joined him in the laugh, and Faquire smiled.
“Oh, Faquire,” said Wysire. “It’s so good to see you back to yourself somewhat. Are you fully convinced now that this is not a dream?”
Faquire nodded, still smiling. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I am sure now. The dream-world is gone, at least for now. I can see everything clearly again.” He sighed, and then continued, “Though I don’t know what I’ll think tomorrow.”
“That’s a problem,” said Wysire. “You really oughtn’t to be left alone, Faquire. The best thing would be for you to come with us, though I doubt whether Kandryl will allow that.”
“He was willing to let us come and help him,” said Eriane to Wysire. “Perhaps he’d be willing to let Faquire come and stay with one of us for a day or two, just till he’s well again, if we promise that nothing will happen due to it.” He turned to Faquire. “You’d be willing to promise that, wouldn’t you?”
Faquire's expression hardened, and he considered for a moment. He then shook his head. “Eriane, I won’t work for them. I won’t do anything that might help them. I’d rather die than go through this last week or two again, but better that a thousand times over than working for the Vukasovians.”
“You may not have to work for them,” said Wysire. “Couldn’t you just agree not to try to run away or to cause any trouble or anything like that for a few days? They just might let you out of here to stay with one of us.”
“The only way that they’d let me out would be if they no longer considered me a threat,” replied Faquire.
Just then, another medic and two guards entered the room. The medic approached without speaking, scanner in hand, to examine Faquire. Faquire pulled back and looked at him dangerously.
“I’m back to myself now,” he said threateningly. “Come near me, and I’ll hurt you!”
The medic stopped, fully believing Faquire, and motioned for the guards. The guards moved towards Faquire, but Eriane quickly intervened.
“Please, sir,” he said to the medic. “I’ve just examined him. Look here.”
Eriane held out his own scanner to the medic, who accepted it and examined the readout suspiciously.
“I still have to perform the scan myself,” he said.
“Why?” asked Eriane. “You can see that I only just performed the scan not thirty minutes ago and that it was done on him. There’s no need for a second scan.”
The medic bristled somewhat at being ordered about by a Komislavian.
“I will perform the scan as I was ordered, whether he wills it or not,” said the medic sharply.
The guards took hold of Faquire by the arms and drew him to his feet, as the medic stepped forward. To the surprise of his friends, Faquire suddenly kicked the scanner out of the medic's hands, and aimed a second kick at the medic himself. The guards jerked Faquire backwards, slamming him against the wall, as the medic jumped back, startled at actually being attacked.
“Faquire!” cried Eriane. “Stop!”
“Faquire, they’ll kill you!” Wysire exclaimed. “Why are you doing this?”
Faquire’s eyes were wild and did not calm as he turned to look at them.
“You truly have joined them!” he snapped. “You would defend their actions and condemn mine already? Get out of here, both of you, you Vukasovian proselytes! I don’t want your help or your advice if this is the form that it takes!”
Eriane took a step back, shocked and uncertain, but Wysire stepped forward and placed his right hand against Faquire’s face, ignoring the two guards who still held Faquire firmly between them.
“You know that we only want to help you,” said Wysire softly. “We don’t want to see you hurt.”
Faquire looked at him, breathing heavily from this recent exertion in his weakened state. He struggled for a moment with his emotions, then spoke in a breaking voice.
“I’m sorry,” he almost whispered. “But please go. You will weaken my resolve if you stay. I don’t want to give in to them, Wysire; I can’t. Please just go.”
The medic had been speaking into a communicator, and now a second medic entered. This one held a small syringe.
“No!” exclaimed Eriane on seeing this. “You can’t drug him again! You almost killed him the last time. He’s weak; at least wait until he’s stronger.”
“We know that he’s weak,” said the one holding the syringe. “That’s why we’re giving him only a small dose. This won’t kill him.”
Eriane and Wysire stood by and watched helplessly as this second medic approached Faquire. The guards each placed one of their feet on Faquire’s feet, preventing him from being able to kick again. Faquire winced at this last proceeding, showing that the guards did not particularly care if they hurt him. The medic stepped forward, took hold of Faquire’s head by the hair, pulled it back, and plunged the thin needle into Faquire’s neck.
The effect was almost immediate. As the medic let go of Faquire and stepped back, the strength, so newly found, seemed again to leave Faquire. The guards held him up, but his head fell forward and raised again only slowly, his eyes blinking as if he were only half-conscious. The first medic stepped forward again and moved the scanner up and down, examining Faquire. Once this was completed, the medics left, and the guards (none too gently) laid Faquire back down on his cot. Faquire lay on his back, breathing raggedly, looking up at the ceiling.
When the three were again left alone in the room, Eriane stepped up to the cot.
“Faquire?” he said quietly. "Are you alright?"
“You’re still here?” asked Faquire. He was still breathing heavily, but his voice was firm. “Yes, I’m alright. Just a bit dizzy.”
“You’re still able to think clearly then?” asked Wysire.
“Yes, I’m able to think fine,” replied Faquire a little sharply. “They just wanted to be able to control me physically. I think that they prefer it when I’m fully aware of what’s happening and know that I’ve no way to combat it.”
“Faquire,” began Eriane slowly. “We may still be able to get you out of here.”
“I won’t serve them!” snapped Faquire. “I prefer their enmity to their amiability.” He paused and closed his eyes, almost as if trying to catch his breath. “If you were to spend a few days in here as a prisoner, you might change your mind about them too.”
Wysire looked deeply concerned. “There’s something wrong with you, Faquire,” he began, but was interrupted by a sharp laugh.
“Yes, there’s something wrong with me!” exclaimed Faquire, opening his eyes again but still not looking at them. “I’m a prisoner on Vukosava, less than one week’s journey from my homeland, with no hope of escape! I’ve no way to tell my father, mother, brothers, or sisters that I’m alive, and I’ve really no hope that I’ll ever even see them again.” His voice began to tremble and break as he continued, “My unborn brother may never meet me, his older sibling. We could live the rest of our lives, only five days apart, and yet never meet!”
Faquire closed his eyes, and Eriane and Wysire looked at him with painful expressions. Wysire opened his mouth to speak again, but Faquire continued.
“My friends are either serving those beasts who keep me here or suffering at the hands of them as I am,” he continued in a voice that was now low and full of anger. “I’ve really no way of knowing whether they are better or worse off than I am, or even whether they’re still alive. The only possible door of relief open to me is death! You said that I would have died if you hadn't come; then why did you come?! Why didn’t you let me die? Why did you bring me back to this?”
“Faquire, can’t you see that your anger is destroying you?” asked Wysire. “You’ll kill yourself if you continue thus. I know that you want to end this trial, but that decision is not yours to make. Your choice right now is not what will happen but how you will react to and handle what does happen.”
Faquire was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t want to think about it, Wysire,” he said at last, his eyes still closed. “I cannot forgive them. They’re cruel, vicious, inhuman, self-centered, self-righteous cowards.”
Wysire did not reply, but stood looking down at Faquire steadily. He knew that to this statement no reply was necessary. If he let Faquire think about it, he would understand. But Faquire only sighed and shook his head.
“I won’t think about it,” he said simply. “I don’t want to think about it.”
“What if you were to stay with Djaisiuk?” asked Eriane suddenly.
Faquire turned his head to look at Eriane, but everything swam so horribly in his vision that he soon turned to look up at the ceiling again, preferring plain, unbroken whiteness to the confused jumble of shapes and colors of his visitors.
“Stay with Djaisiuk?” he repeated.
“As an alternative to staying here,” said Eriane. “You wouldn’t have to serve them, but perhaps Djaisiuk would be willing to act as ‘warden’ for you, at least until you’re well again.”
Faquire lay quiet for a moment, thinking.
“If Djaisiuk was willing,” he said slowly, “I might consent. Not that I’d serve them,” he added quickly, “but I wouldn’t mind a chance to talk with Djaisiuk. I’d still like to know why he serves them.”
“We all would,” murmured Eriane.
“Faquire, I’d like to be able to talk with you more,” began Wysire.
Faquire shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said. “If we were back on the ship, I’d probably come and seek you, but we’re not there! We’re here, on the planet of our enemies. Everything is different. I’m a prisoner, and you are a Komislavian working for the Vukasovians. I don’t want to discuss any of the things that I know you think ought to be addressed. I know what’s wrong with me, and I’m content to leave it so until situations change.”
Wysire frowned, ever so slightly, and looked on silently as if weighing whether he ought to push the subject now. Finally, he sighed quietly and lowered his eyes.
“We’ll go and talk to Kandryl now about the possibility of you staying with Djaisiuk,” said Eriane to Faquire, guessing that Wysire had decided not to pursue the subject. “I can’t bear the thought of you having to stay here like this, suffering such inhuman actions as they take!”
Faquire gave a short laugh. “I had become very used to this treatment, really. I’m only surprised that they didn’t have the syringe ready and waiting when the first group entered. They must have thought that I’d be too weak or too frightened to fight back this time. I suppose I should be offended.” He smiled.
“Faquire, please don’t fight back again tonight,” Eriane pleaded. “You’re still not well; you need to conserve your strength. They may go too far and do you permanent damage without meaning to do so. Please don’t push them.”
Faquire closed his eyes. “I doubt that I’ll be able to fight back again tonight. Normally, this much of that dizzy-medicine wouldn’t disable me, but, as you say, I’m not entirely well. Don’t worry; I won’t fight anymore tonight.”
Wysire stepped forward and gave Faquire’s hand a squeeze.
“Faquire, I’ll be praying for you,” he said. He looked as if he wanted to say more but thought that he shouldn’t. He stepped back at last.
“We’ll return as soon as we can,” said Eriane. “Hopefully Kandryl will agree to the plan.”
Eriane and Wysire then said goodbye to Faquire and left. It was getting late, and most of the other boys would be in bed by now, but they went straight to Kandryl’s quarters.
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