Kiacyl wandered aimlessly through the halls of the ship. His mind was consumed with so many thoughts. It couldn't be possible! he thought. Kiacyl had known, or thought he had known, why his father was sending him away. Kandryl must have produced a son worthy of him. Kiacyl knew that he was a blight on his father's reputation; Kandryl had been ashamed of him, and rightly so. The other intelligent officers had sons who were like themselves, but Kandryl had only Kiacyl, a boy of scarcely above-average intelligence.
Kiacyl knew well his father's story. When he was twenty, Kandryl had wished to bear a son, and he had been granted permission to try. The first baby conceived had had an adverse reaction to the genetic treatments given it to strengthen its mental abilities. The geneticists had terminated the pregnancy. Kandryl tried a second time with the same result. The third time was no different. Most intelligence workers were permitted no more than three attempts, but Kandryl was no usual worker. He was both physically strong and mentally superior. And his own intellect had been natural, that is without genetic manipulation, and so he could be expected to remain valuable longer than most others. With these qualifications, his request some few years after the third failed attempt for permission to again attempt reproduction was granted. After a fourth and fifth failed attempt, the geneticists were on the verge of declaring Kandryl incapable of useful reproduction. In what might almost be considered desperation, Kandryl requested permission to attempt to bear a natural son. This was almost never done, but Kandryl reasoned that he himself was intelligent enough naturally that he would have a much higher chance of producing a naturally useful heir than would most others. After a great deal of consideration on the part of Kandryl's superiors, this request too was at last granted. It was in this way that Kiacyl was conceived.
What Kandryl's reaction to the knowledge that Kiacyl was healthy and strong, but only slightly above average intelligence might have been, Kiacyl did not know. He knew only that he had been allowed to live and to grow. He was trained as an intelligent worker and lived as one. By the time that he was old enough to be viewed as a possible detriment to the other workers around himself, Kandryl too was old enough to be considered very valuable. It had been suggested that Kiacyl be put away, but Kandryl had countered this suggestion. He now had the authority to do so. Kiacyl was not a son of whom his father could be proud, but he was, at least, a son. Kandryl always kept Kiacyl near to himself, working in whatever facility Kandryl might then be managing. Even so, there was always a distance -- a sort of tension -- between them. Kandryl would not speak of Kiacyl as his son, nor was Kiacyl ever to speak to others of who his father was. This latter part was easy, because, being of lower intelligence, Kiacyl rarely spoke to anyone apart from his work.
Kiacyl knew that his father would wish to have a different son. It would not be until he was considered very, very valuable that he would ever be given permission to try again. Shortly before the arrival of the Komislavian boys, Kandryl had attained that position. Kiacyl had then considered it very likely that his father would try again. Whether or not he would succeed, none could say. But if he did, Kiacyl knew that something would have to be done with himself. He did not think that Kandryl would have him put away in the normal sense, for that would be to admit that the boy whom he had (secretly) called his son for thirteen years was, in truth, useless. But neither would he wish Kiacyl to continue to live, particularly taking into account the fact that Kiacyl was natural, meaning that he would likely live a long life.
When Kandryl had told Kiacyl that he was to accompany the Komislavian boys as they left Vukosava, Kiacyl had then believed that this was his method of disposing of Kiacyl himself. Why else would he have sent him away? Kiacyl had believed all of his life that this time would come, and he admired his father for his ingenuity in devising such a unique method of getting rid of him, but he had yet been hurt. He couldn't have explained why, and he would never have admitted it to anyone, but it did still hurt him, looking at his father for the final time, knowing that he would never see him again. He had always known that his father cared nothing for him, and yet somehow this final rejection, as it had seemed to him, was still painful.
But now Djaisiuk was saying that that hadn't been the case at all! He said that Kandryl had sent Kiacyl away in order to save his life.
Kiacyl had known somewhat of the experiment his father was conducting, and, now that he thought of it, it seemed that the experiment must have failed in some way if the Komislavians had come to fetch the group. How was that possible? But, he considered, what did it matter how it was done? If it was true that the experiment had failed and that it was known outside of Vukosava, then there was very little doubt that Kandryl would be executed. After all, for such a failure as that -- for bringing shame to the Vukasovian race -- death was unavoidable. Kiacyl also knew well that if his father was killed, he would himself immediately follow if he wasn't executed first.
If it hadn't been for the expression on his father's face as he had instructed Kiacyl to go with Djaisiuk and to obey him perfectly, Kiacyl felt that he might even now be able to deny it. But Kandryl had been almost agitated; Kiacyl had been able to see that much. And that was something that Kiacyl had never before seen in his father.
"You must go with Djaisiuk," Kandryl had said. "Obey him quickly and without question. Speak to no one but to him, unless he instructs you to do so, until you are well away from the planet."
Kiacyl's eyes had widened at this, and he had opened his mouth to question, but Kandryl had cut him off.
"Once you are well underway, Djaisiuk will explain," he had continued. "Remember, you must never tell anyone who your parents are."
Kandryl's last order had confused him slightly. Kiacyl had never told anyone, and he knew that he never would. Why would his father even have to tell him that? Kiacyl understood now. He was going to Komislava. He was supposed to accompany these Komislavian boys back to their own planet where he would be integrated into their culture. Kandryl had not wanted Kiacyl's silence for his own pride; he had wanted it for Kiacyl's own safety. Kandryl had kidnapped these Komislavian boys, had imprisoned them, had tortured them. Even if the Komislavians were all as kind as were these twelve, surely at least the families of these boys would be angry and perhaps vengeful on behalf of them. Kandryl had been seeking to protect his son. This thought awakened again the pain with which Kiacyl had struggled earlier. He stopped walking and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and to think clearly.
Kandryl had sent him away to save his life. His father had come to Djaisiuk, the one whom he'd so mistreated, and somehow convinced him to take Kiacyl with them when they left. What agony of humiliation had he had to endure in doing so? Kiacyl could not imagine nor did he want to do so. It couldn't be possible! Could it be that Kandryl really did care for Kiacyl? No! Kiacyl did not allow himself to believe it.
Wysire had said that his father had loved him. Such a statement was an insult worse than any Kiacyl could imagine. His father was a Vukasovian through and through, and he would never have allowed himself to be sullied by emotional weakness. 'Caring for someone leaves one open to manipulation.' Kandryl would never have allowed that in himself. Kiacyl was proud of his father; his father had had no weaknesses. No, Kiacyl assured himself; his father had not loved him, and he would never allow anyone to say otherwise.
But he had loved his father.
Kiacyl knew well his father's story. When he was twenty, Kandryl had wished to bear a son, and he had been granted permission to try. The first baby conceived had had an adverse reaction to the genetic treatments given it to strengthen its mental abilities. The geneticists had terminated the pregnancy. Kandryl tried a second time with the same result. The third time was no different. Most intelligence workers were permitted no more than three attempts, but Kandryl was no usual worker. He was both physically strong and mentally superior. And his own intellect had been natural, that is without genetic manipulation, and so he could be expected to remain valuable longer than most others. With these qualifications, his request some few years after the third failed attempt for permission to again attempt reproduction was granted. After a fourth and fifth failed attempt, the geneticists were on the verge of declaring Kandryl incapable of useful reproduction. In what might almost be considered desperation, Kandryl requested permission to attempt to bear a natural son. This was almost never done, but Kandryl reasoned that he himself was intelligent enough naturally that he would have a much higher chance of producing a naturally useful heir than would most others. After a great deal of consideration on the part of Kandryl's superiors, this request too was at last granted. It was in this way that Kiacyl was conceived.
What Kandryl's reaction to the knowledge that Kiacyl was healthy and strong, but only slightly above average intelligence might have been, Kiacyl did not know. He knew only that he had been allowed to live and to grow. He was trained as an intelligent worker and lived as one. By the time that he was old enough to be viewed as a possible detriment to the other workers around himself, Kandryl too was old enough to be considered very valuable. It had been suggested that Kiacyl be put away, but Kandryl had countered this suggestion. He now had the authority to do so. Kiacyl was not a son of whom his father could be proud, but he was, at least, a son. Kandryl always kept Kiacyl near to himself, working in whatever facility Kandryl might then be managing. Even so, there was always a distance -- a sort of tension -- between them. Kandryl would not speak of Kiacyl as his son, nor was Kiacyl ever to speak to others of who his father was. This latter part was easy, because, being of lower intelligence, Kiacyl rarely spoke to anyone apart from his work.
Kiacyl knew that his father would wish to have a different son. It would not be until he was considered very, very valuable that he would ever be given permission to try again. Shortly before the arrival of the Komislavian boys, Kandryl had attained that position. Kiacyl had then considered it very likely that his father would try again. Whether or not he would succeed, none could say. But if he did, Kiacyl knew that something would have to be done with himself. He did not think that Kandryl would have him put away in the normal sense, for that would be to admit that the boy whom he had (secretly) called his son for thirteen years was, in truth, useless. But neither would he wish Kiacyl to continue to live, particularly taking into account the fact that Kiacyl was natural, meaning that he would likely live a long life.
When Kandryl had told Kiacyl that he was to accompany the Komislavian boys as they left Vukosava, Kiacyl had then believed that this was his method of disposing of Kiacyl himself. Why else would he have sent him away? Kiacyl had believed all of his life that this time would come, and he admired his father for his ingenuity in devising such a unique method of getting rid of him, but he had yet been hurt. He couldn't have explained why, and he would never have admitted it to anyone, but it did still hurt him, looking at his father for the final time, knowing that he would never see him again. He had always known that his father cared nothing for him, and yet somehow this final rejection, as it had seemed to him, was still painful.
But now Djaisiuk was saying that that hadn't been the case at all! He said that Kandryl had sent Kiacyl away in order to save his life.
Kiacyl had known somewhat of the experiment his father was conducting, and, now that he thought of it, it seemed that the experiment must have failed in some way if the Komislavians had come to fetch the group. How was that possible? But, he considered, what did it matter how it was done? If it was true that the experiment had failed and that it was known outside of Vukosava, then there was very little doubt that Kandryl would be executed. After all, for such a failure as that -- for bringing shame to the Vukasovian race -- death was unavoidable. Kiacyl also knew well that if his father was killed, he would himself immediately follow if he wasn't executed first.
If it hadn't been for the expression on his father's face as he had instructed Kiacyl to go with Djaisiuk and to obey him perfectly, Kiacyl felt that he might even now be able to deny it. But Kandryl had been almost agitated; Kiacyl had been able to see that much. And that was something that Kiacyl had never before seen in his father.
"You must go with Djaisiuk," Kandryl had said. "Obey him quickly and without question. Speak to no one but to him, unless he instructs you to do so, until you are well away from the planet."
Kiacyl's eyes had widened at this, and he had opened his mouth to question, but Kandryl had cut him off.
"Once you are well underway, Djaisiuk will explain," he had continued. "Remember, you must never tell anyone who your parents are."
Kandryl's last order had confused him slightly. Kiacyl had never told anyone, and he knew that he never would. Why would his father even have to tell him that? Kiacyl understood now. He was going to Komislava. He was supposed to accompany these Komislavian boys back to their own planet where he would be integrated into their culture. Kandryl had not wanted Kiacyl's silence for his own pride; he had wanted it for Kiacyl's own safety. Kandryl had kidnapped these Komislavian boys, had imprisoned them, had tortured them. Even if the Komislavians were all as kind as were these twelve, surely at least the families of these boys would be angry and perhaps vengeful on behalf of them. Kandryl had been seeking to protect his son. This thought awakened again the pain with which Kiacyl had struggled earlier. He stopped walking and took a deep breath, trying to steady himself and to think clearly.
Kandryl had sent him away to save his life. His father had come to Djaisiuk, the one whom he'd so mistreated, and somehow convinced him to take Kiacyl with them when they left. What agony of humiliation had he had to endure in doing so? Kiacyl could not imagine nor did he want to do so. It couldn't be possible! Could it be that Kandryl really did care for Kiacyl? No! Kiacyl did not allow himself to believe it.
Wysire had said that his father had loved him. Such a statement was an insult worse than any Kiacyl could imagine. His father was a Vukasovian through and through, and he would never have allowed himself to be sullied by emotional weakness. 'Caring for someone leaves one open to manipulation.' Kandryl would never have allowed that in himself. Kiacyl was proud of his father; his father had had no weaknesses. No, Kiacyl assured himself; his father had not loved him, and he would never allow anyone to say otherwise.
But he had loved his father.
* * * * * * *
Kiacyl didn't know how far he'd walked when he saw one of the two adult doctors coming toward him. The doctor was looking down at a parchment as he walked, and he didn't notice Kiacyl until he had almost reached him.
"Oh, hello," said the doctor in a surprised tone when he finally looked up. "It's good to see you out and about at last. I know that you haven't left Djaisiuk's side in the last few days. You must be ready for a bit of exercise." He smiled.
Kiacyl looked at him, but didn't answer. His brows slowly creased into a frown.
"Oh dear! Where are my manners?" exclaimed the doctor, quickly tucking his parchment under his left arm and extending his right hand in greeting. "We really haven't been introduced. I am Cieru, physician worker of the IC School. And you are?"
Kiacyl's upper lip curled slightly in disgust, and he made no move to take the proffered hand.
"I am one who is under no obligation to give you any information whatsoever," he said scornfully.
The doctor's eyes widened in surprise. Before he could answer, however, Kiacyl heard another step approaching from behind him.
"Where are your manners indeed, Cieru!" said a commanding voice. "Is that any way to speak to a stranger?"
Kiacyl turned and saw the second doctor approach. This doctor regarded Cieru with a look of extreme displeasure. Glancing back at the first doctor, Kiacyl saw that he was now looking up at the newcomer, his surprise having doubled. The second doctor used the brief opportunity while Kiacyl was not looking at him to wink significantly at Cieru. Cieru frowned in confusion, but said nothing. When Kiacyl turned back to him, the second doctor wore again an expression of stern rebuke.
"Well, go along with you," he said to Cieru. "He's made it clear that he doesn't want your company."
Cieru continued to look at him incredulously for a moment, then, with a short glance at Kiacyl and a confused shake of the head, he walked past them and on down the hallway, pulling out his parchment again as he went. The other doctor then turned to Kiacyl as Cieru disappeared around a bend.
"Please accept my apologies for my kinsman," he said. "He's not well versed in the proper way to speak to strangers."
His voice and manners seemed cold and unfeeling for a Komislavian, though they would have been considered open and bordering on soft-spoken for a Vukasovian. Kiacyl looked at him suspiciously.
"Who are you?" he asked scornfully.
"Farion, doctor and professor of medical science of the Komislavian IC School, at your service," answered the doctor, drawing himself up proudly. Still he did not smile.
"We met once, didn't we?" Kiacyl asked.
"It's possible," the doctor replied. "I believe that I've seen you with Djaisiuk."
"You didn't act like this then," Kiacyl said in a voice that was almost accusing.
"I wasn't speaking with you then," came the immediate reply.
There was silence for a moment as the two regarded one another. At last, Farion stepped back and extending a hand out along the hall, as if showing the way ahead.
"If you'd like a tour of this ship, I'd be happy to show you around it," he said, still speaking in what he considered to be a tone of haughty indifference. "I've nothing else to do at the moment."
Kiacyl still regarded him with mild suspicion, but he stepped forward without a word and allowed himself to be shown around the ship. He too had nothing else to do at the moment, and he could expect to be on a Komislavian ship for several more days if he was soon sent back to Vukosava. Knowing his own way around one might prove useful.
This particular ship was not an especially large one, really, which was probably why a crew of four was sufficient to keep it running. It was certainly not made for a full IC crew. The main hall formed an ellipse, circling round the engine room. The doctor pointed out the open doorways and different halls leading to the many different rooms as they passed them. First came the storage rooms that had been quickly converted to sleeping quarters in order to have enough space for the twelve boys. A little further on and they passed the hall leading to the emergency medical room and its adjoining waiting room where Kiacyl had slept on the first night. Next came the engine room where the pilot and navigator worked. They both glanced up as the two passed, and Farion gave a brief introduction to Kiacyl, but the latter said nothing to them.
Farion explained each room as they passed and made a few comments about the ship in general from time to time. Kiacyl listened and occasionally asked a question or two which were answered in the same tone of voice as the explanations were given. Through it all, Farion was careful to avoid asking Kiacyl any questions. Finally, they came to the food preparation room.
"Would you like something to eat or drink?" asked Farion. "I'd like a cup of tea myself."
Kiacyl answered the question in the negative. He didn't feel like eating just now, and he wouldn't have eaten with this Komislavian regardless. He did sit at the small table, still with an expression of indifference and light suspicion, while Farion moved about the small room, preparing a pot of tea. Farion watched Kiacyl through this, but Kiacyl stared moodily down at the table. At last, the doctor joined him at the table.
"Well, now you've seen the ship," he said simply.
Kiacyl didn't look at him. Farion sipped his tea quietly.
"Will you be staying at the IC School on Komislava?" he asked.
"I won't be staying on Komislava," replied Kiacyl sharply. "I'll be returning to Vukosava."
"Do you mind if I ask why you are here in first place?"
"I'm here because the one whom you call Djaisiuk kidnapped me," Kiacyl replied.
Farion reacted only by raising his eyebrows. He then turned back to his tea and nodded understandingly.
"I understand that he is very, shall we say, eccentric," said Farion.
"Eccentric?" demanded Kiacyl. "Kidnapping is an inter-planetary offense. You call that eccentric?"
"You're right," nodded Farion. "I shouldn't call it that. It is strange, though. Why would he do such a thing?"
"He thought that I'd want it, so he says," sneered Kiacyl. "Apparently, he was told that I'd be killed if I stayed on Vukosava."
"Ah, and it wasn't a reliable source from which he obtained this information?"
"It was very reliable!" snapped Kiacyl before realizing the trap into which he'd stepped.
Farion looked at him calmly, and Kiacyl shut his mouth and turned away angrily.
"Then you would have been killed if you'd stayed?"
Kiacyl didn't answer. Farion waited, then spoke again.
"Your name is Kiacyl, isn't it?" he asked.
Kiacyl glanced up at him, still looking angry, but he said nothing.
"Kiacyl, have you thought about your future?" Farion asked gently. "The future is as sure as the past. We don't know what will happen or when, but we know that it will come to pass. The past is already gone and cannot be changed, but it is the past that builds the future. The future is not yet firmly set, but it will one day be the past and will not then be open to change either. If you pull yourself outside of time for a moment and look at the past, the present, and the future all as one single continuous picture, you may see what I mean. Who you are now and what you do now will shape what will be for you. Once an action is done, it cannot be undone. Your future will be what you make it to be. When it comes and goes and you look back on it as the past, will you then think that killing yourself will have been the best decision?
"Kiacyl, you may have a family of your own in the future. You may have a wife and children. Your children may have children, and their children may have children. Look at yourself in the future: you may be a husband, a father, a grandfather, if you allow that future to come to pass. Your children will be as sure then as you are now. If you kill yourself now, don't you see that all of your children will die before they are born? They are still in you, and if you die, they will die as potentials and imaginations only. If you do not live, your wife will never have her husband. Your wife of the future is the widow of the past. Your grandchildren and great-grandchildren will never be born. Think now, before you decide that you want to die: think of all that will never come to pass. Think of the family that you will never enjoy, the experiences that you will never experience, and the life that you will not have the opportunity to live."
Farion ceased, and Kiacyl stared at him in open astonishment. Never, in all the thirteen years that he'd been alive, had he heard such a strange and extraordinary argument. Step outside of time? It was true that what Farion had said at first made sense: the future was just as sure as the past, in that it was inevitable that the future would come to pass. No one could say what the future would be, but anyone could safely say that it would be. But the rest of the argument was so confusing! His wife? His children? He was only thirteen! How was he supposed to even imagine his future family, let alone shape his current actions around them? They didn't even exist! Or did they? If he did "step outside of time" and look at the future in the way that he would one day look at it, that is when it had become the past, didn't they already exist then? And did his grandchildren exist? And great-grandchildren?
Kiacyl closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his head. It was too much! He couldn't comprehend it, and he didn't want to try. He wouldn't think about it. He would go on as if he'd never heard this fantastic argument. He took a deep breath to steady himself.
Go on? Where? He realized that he couldn't go on now as if he'd never heard it. He had heard it. The future was there, staring him in the face. He had a family again. He had a wife somehow. He even had children, though he didn't understand how, seeing that he had them only in the future, which was somehow as real and sure now as the past. If he went back to Vukosava and was executed, he would be destroying any and every future open to him. He would be eliminating, once and for all, any opportunity of . . . of anything that was open to him. His offspring too; he would be killing them. His sons and grandsons. His father's grandsons.
His father's grandsons. Kiacyl felt a chill pass through him at the thought. He was the only son of his father, and if he killed himself then he would also be killing the future offspring of his father.
Kiacyl opened his eyes. Had his father seen this? Was this why he had sent him away? His father hadn't wanted his son to die; that much was obvious. But had he also not wanted his grandsons to die? Had he been thinking of them? Of his great-grandsons? Kandryl was a genius of geniuses. Why would he not have thought of this? He was saving not only his son but all of his line. He was saving the generations that would come after him. Kiacyl was sure of it now. He was the only hope for his father's line. He was now the only one left alive.
No, Kiacyl realized, he couldn't kill himself. He couldn't return to Vukosava, if there was a chance of life elsewhere. He would not murder the grandchildren of his father. Their shadows, if met with in another life, would not be able to say to him, "You did not give me a chance to live!" He would not intentionally cut off the line of his father. He would live, for as long as he could; for as long as life was granted to him.
Farion had sat silently, watching Kiacyl work though all of this in his mind. His face had grown softer as he watched, so that when Kiacyl looked up at last, he saw a normal Komislavian with a friendly, compassionate face looking down at him. Kiacyl frowned at first, suspicious again, but the frown did not stay long. He lowered his eyes and sighed softly, his face looking perfectly resigned.
"Would you take me back to Djaisiuk's room?" he asked calmly, standing up from the table. "I need to speak with him."
THE END
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