THE TWELVE -- Chapter 20 - Djaisiuk's Instrument

Drayl sent the first reports of the test of the Vukasovian mind drug to Kandryl late in the evening of the eighth day.  They weren't reassuring.  Faquire, the test subject whom they'd used, had reacted rather badly to the drug.  He had slipped into something similar to a waking coma; his brain was very active, but he did not respond normally to stimulus.  His eyes would follow strange and seemingly random paths, but he didn't seem to be seeing anything.  Physical stimuli would sometimes result in corresponding physical movement, but, just as often, it would not.  Kandryl had sent word back that Drayl was to cease the test.  He was to continue to monitor the boy closely until he had returned to normal, but he was to be given no more of the drug, even after he had completely recovered from the doses already given.  In the meantime, Kandryl realized that he had some decisions to make, seeing that it seemed unlikely that the drugs would serve their desired purposes.
 

These results were displeasing to Kandryl.  He had already practically decided that the drugs would not be used on Djaisiuk, but he had wanted them tested just the same.  These results served only to confirm his previous decision.  It would have been so nice to have had them for such a time as they might be necessary.  Now, seeing the reaction that the one boy had had, he did not even want to test them on the other two unwilling boys.
 

Kandryl now had decisions to make.  Was he willing to allow Djaisiuk to continue, knowing that Kandryl himself still had no hold on him?  Djaisiuk had shown himself by now to be a hard and willing worker.  He would not speak, and he did just as he pleased when he pleased, but he worked well.  Indeed, he worked incredibly well.  The testing phase of the experiment would not last forever; there were only twelve days more before it would be complete.  At that time, when Kandryl showed his results to his supervisors, Djaisiuk's work alone without the positive results from any of the other boys would sufficient to gain approval.  The young man himself would give them cause to pause, if they were to meet him, but perhaps it would not come to that.  Kandryl would so much prefer to have absolute control over Djaisiuk before then, but how?  Djaisiuk had no weakness.
 

In the middle of the next morning, Kandryl received a surprise.  As he went about his normal tasks of overseeing the work of the facility, still mulling over the thoughts of the previous evening in his mind, he received a message that Djaisiuk wished to see him as soon as was conveniently possible.  Kandryl was more than surprised; he was astonished.  Djaisiuk had never sent for him, even when instructed to do so.  Indeed Djaisiuk had refused to communicate with him at all since the day that he had been subjected to Drayl's small machine.  But now Djaisiuk was sending word that he wished to see Kandryl at his earliest convenience.  Needless to say, Kandryl's earliest convenience was very early indeed.

* * * * * * *

Djaisiuk had found that he could no longer work sufficiently well.  He had to have his piano.  The stress of his activities and situation was too great.  He found it increasingly difficult to perform the work required of him.  He could not concentrate.  He could think of little else but of his instrument.  And it was on the ship.
 

Djaisiuk realized that the emotional stress of the situation was draining him internally.  He had to have release.  This was no easy situation: he and his shipmates were prisoners of a foreign race, and Djaisiuk alone possessed the ability to save them.  It was a very, very difficult task for one person to do alone.  True, he was no longer undergoing the torments designed for him previously, but the stress from those incidents had never been relieved either.  Djaisiuk needed to relieve some of the tension and stress that was plaguing him.  The stress did not show with him; no one watching would know he was feeling anything, but it was there, nevertheless.  Having never experienced stress like this, he had never learned other means of release.  His piano was all that he knew.  And he had to have it.
 

This was illogical, Djaisiuk had told himself.  He ought to be able to continue to work without it.  True, he was accustomed to using it, but he ought not need it.  Djaisiuk told himself that, given time, he would learn other ways to continue his work without his instrument; but time was a luxury that he did not have.  The plan for sending a message to Komislava was already underway.  He must complete the preparations at least five days before the end of the testing phase of the experiment, and time was fast ticking away.  Even after completion, Djaisiuk must then continue to work as normal for several more days until his people could act on the information and send a ship to retrieve them.  It would take over four days to travel from Komislava to Vukosava in the fastest ship available, and the Komislavians could not allow the Vukasovians to know that they had proof of the existence of the project until they were near the planet.  If they did, then there might still be time for the Vukasovians to hide the project: that is to say, in the event of forewarning, the boys would be dead before the ship arrived.
 

No, there was no time to waste; DjaisiukDjaisiuk had sent word to Kandryl that he wished to speak with him as soon as may be.
 

Djaisiuk had originally had no intention of ever allowing Kandryl to know of the existence of his instrument.  It was the one and only easily disposable item to which Kandryl had access that carried any emotional leverage with Djaisiuk himself.  Knowing this, Kandryl would most certainly exploit this weakness to the fullest possible extent.  Even so, Djaisiuk was resolute; he had to have it.  He could only pray that the message would be sent successfully before Kandryl decided to heap new emotional burdens on him, using his instrument.

* * * * * * *

Kandryl entered the room to find Djaisiuk sitting in his usual chair at the round table, gazing vaguely at the wall.  Kandryl was surprised to see him not working, but he did not show it.  He did not move to the table, but rather crossed his arms and looked down at Djaisiuk from where he stood by the door.
 

"What is this?" Kandryl asked.  "Why are sitting here when it is not meal time?"
 

Djaisiuk turned to look up at Kandryl.  "I want my instrument," he said slowly.
 

"Your instrument," Kandryl repeated, with that slightly sarcastic, moderately condescending tone which was so characteristic of him.  "Would you care to be a little more specific?"
 

"My piano," Djaisiuk said in his customary hoarse voice.
 

"Your piano?" scoffed Kandryl.  "You are saying that you require a musical instrument?"  He gave a harsh, scornful laugh.
 

Djaisiuk lowered his eyes and did not answer.  This was the reaction that Djaisiuk had expected of Kandryl, but still it stung him.  Kandryl was mocking him.  And Djaisiuk felt that he fully deserved it.  Even so, he would not answer.
 

Kandryl stepped around the table to sit at his usual place, facing the doorway.  Looking Djaisiuk full in the face, he said, "It appears that we both want something from the other.  You want your instrument, and I want you to answer my questions.  Perhaps we can reach a compromise.  I will allow you to have your instrument, and you will answer five questions each day."
 

"No," said Djaisiuk without raising his eyes.
 

"No?" repeated Kandryl.  "You are hardly in a position to make demands.  I could just as easily demand fifty questions per day in exchange for your instrument.  I choose to be lenient.  Now, will you or will you not accept my terms?"
 

"I will work," said Djaisiuk tonelessly.
 

Kandryl raised an eyebrow.  Djaisiuk was indeed making demands now.  He was implying that unless Kandryl gave him his instrument, he would cease to work.  For a moment, Kandryl considered calling Djaisiuk on this, just to see whether or not he was bluffing, but somehow he doubted that Djaisiuk ever bluffed.
 

"No piano has been found on your ship," said Kandryl at last, changing the subject slightly.  "Where was your instrument kept?"
 

"The hidden room," Djaisiuk answered.
 

Kandryl raised both eyebrows now.  Djaisiuk was offering him information that he did not have.  The Vukasovians had searched and mapped the entire ship some time ago.  There had been no "hidden" rooms. Kandryl drew out his parchment and pulled up a floor plan of the ship.
 

"Show me where this room is located," he said, laying the parchment out on the table in front of Djaisiuk.
 

Without hesitation, Djaisiuk pointed to one section of the ship.  He pressed the tip of his right index finger to the middle of a rather thick wall in the starboard bow section.
 

Kandryl considered how to react to this.  He was not aware of the existence of a room there.  The ship had been scanned from without; all rooms, walls, and doors had been located and mapped using penetration technology and had later been verified visually.  Yet the section which Djaisiuk now indicated had not shown any hollows within it.  It had appeared solid.  If it was not, then Kandryl wanted to know.
 

"Very well," said Kandryl.  "We shall go to your ship, you and I, and you will show me this hidden room.  After that, we will continue this discussion."
 

With that, he rose and motioned Djaisiuk to precede him out of the room.

* * * * * * *

Kandryl led the way to the docks, bringing Djaisiuk and the guard posted outside the workroom.  As they entered the ship, Kandryl allowed Djaisiuk to lead the way.  Djaisiuk walked straight to his room, looking neither right nor left.  Kandryl and the guard then watched as Djaisiuk pressed his right index finger and thumb against a part of the wall, and a small panel slid open in front of his hand.  He then pressed his palm to the space revealed, and immediately another small panel slid open revealing a tiny keypad covered with symbols that Kandryl did not recognize.  Keeping his right hand pressed flat against the first opening, Djaisiuk tapped out a rather long sequence of symbols with his left hand at an amazing speed.  A section of the wall, just large enough for an average man to step through comfortably, then slid back, revealing a long thin room.
 

Kandryl felt that he hid his surprise well, but his efforts were wasted, for Djaisiuk did not look at him.  He merely stepped silently to the doorway and entered.  The two smaller panels slid shut as soon as Djaisiuk withdrew his hands, and none could have told where they were located who had not seen them opened.
 

The room was remarkably narrow, owing to the fact that it was hidden within a wall (albeit a thick one), and yet it seemed perfectly large enough for one of Djaisiuk's size.  There were low counters for workspace running along each wall, excepting only the narrow one at the far end of the room, which were mostly covered with small tools of various sorts.  The walkway which ran down the center was plainly not build for a full-grown man.  Djaisiuk however walked down it easily, obviously quite at home here.
 

Kandryl stood in the doorway, wondering at all of this and trying (in vain) to identify a few of the instruments on the nearest countertop.  Djaisiuk paid him no mind, however, and walked to the far end of the room.  There, he again slid back a small panel and pulled a small lever inside.  The narrow wall split down the center and withdrew entirely into the walls on either side revealing a very shallow compartment, scarcely larger than a closet.
 

Within was Djaisiuk's piano.
 

It was a lovely instrument, made of dark wood stained darker and polished so that it shone.  The keys were not quite white, but rather were an off-white which complemented the dark brown of the wood.  Djaisiuk, his face still impassive, allowed his right hand to softly touch the keys before recalling himself.  He withdrew his hand, stiffened slightly, and turned to look at Kandryl.  The two regarded one another silently for a moment.
 

"I assume that this is what you want so badly," said Kandryl scornfully.
 

Djaisiuk made no verbal reply.  He turned again to glance at his beloved instrument, then lowered his eyes to gaze at the floor.
 

Kandryl's lip curled in derision.  "Perhaps you'd care to explain to me why you so desperately need it."
 

Djaisiuk, as usual, refused to answer.
 

Kandryl considered him silently for a moment.  Djaisiuk had never asked for anything.  He had done everything that had ever been asked of him without argument, excepting, of course, the answering of questions and anything else involving speech.  Kandryl had no hold over him whatsoever.  The other boys could be manipulated, if necessary, by threats of being kept from their comrades, but Djaisiuk had never shown an interest in seeing the others, so this threat would mean nothing to him.  Food deprivation had failed as a method of mental domination with him.  Physical torture, at least on a small scale, had proved useless.  Kandryl had gained no foothold in the fight to control Djaisiuk.  Now, it seemed, that had changed.  Djaisiuk wanted this instrument.  Kandryl wanted to know how badly he wanted it.
 

"You will tell me it's significance, or you will not have it," said Kandryl.
 

Djaisiuk did not answer.
 

"You have worked for nearly a week* without the help of this instrument.  Why do you need it now?"
 

Still there was no answer.
 

"If you maintain this stubborn silence, you will not have the instrument.  You may choose."
 

Djaisiuk seemed to consider for the smallest possible moment.  "I want it," he said slowly.
 

Kandryl stood silently for a moment, considering Djaisiuk.  So, the boy-machine had a weakness.  Or was it a weakness?  It could just as easily be that he was making unusual demands in order to test Kandryl himself: how far would Kandryl go to ensure that Djaisiuk would work?  Kandryl had to ask himself, just how far would he go?
 

"Very well," said Kandryl at last.  "Return to your work, and I may have it delivered to you later.  Of course, it must first be examined carefully by our security.  I'll inform you of my decision when our examinations are complete."  Here he watched Djaisiuk closely for any reaction, but there was none.  Never was there a visible reaction with Djaisiuk, it seemed.

* * * * * * *

Of course Kandryl did eventually allow Djaisiuk to have his piano.  He found that Djaisiuk was not exaggerating when he implied that he would no longer work without it.  Upon leaving Kandryl in the ship, Djaisiuk had returned immediately to his private quarters, entered his sleeping room, and proceeded to fall asleep.  This was strictly forbidden during the workday, but Djaisiuk had not seemed to care.  In fact, until his instrument was delivered, Djaisiuk performed none of his duties whatsoever.
 

Kandryl tried verbal threats and even deprived him of one meal, but to no avail.  Djaisiuk showed the same stubbornness on this subject as he had previously as regarded his speech.  In the end, Kandryl ordered the piano to be brought to Djaisiuk's workroom near the close of the ninth day, just after Kiacyl had left the room.
 

Once it had been delivered and the laborers had left the room, Djaisiuk immediately sat at his piano, placed his fingers on the keys, closed his eyes, and began to play a strong, loud song.  Kandryl, watching from his own quarters, was unfamiliar with the near ancient music of the Earth composer Beethoven, favorite composer of Djaisiuk, so he would have been unable to have identified the nearly 45-minute-long piece of that composer's symphony number five.
 

Kandryl could not help but smile maliciously as he leaned back in his chair, watching Djaisiuk play.  Djaisiuk might show no emotion outwardly, but it was obvious that he felt something when playing his piano.  Though his face remained emotionless (indeed, one might almost have thought him asleep, his eyes closed and his head occasionally moving up and down ever so slowly), Djaisiuk's breathing came deeper and more slowly, and his movements became more dreamlike as he threw himself entirely into his music.  Kandryl was pleased.  Djaisiuk was indeed Komislavian with emotions just like any other Komislavian.  And Kandryl had now found his weakness.  When and if Djaisiuk ever did give cause to worry, Kandryl knew that he would now have the proper leverage to use.

*A Vukasovian week is ten days.

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 19 - First Meeting

Kiacyl entered the eating room with a little trepidation.  He looked around and easily spotted the table that he wanted by the small crowd of Komislavian boys sitting around it.  Keeping a set face, he approached cautiously, unsure of what to expect.
 

There were several animated conversations going on around the table as he approached.  He saw there, in the few short moments that it took him to reach the table, a wider range of emotions displayed in the faces and tones of voice of the small group than he had ever seen before in any given month.  Vukasovians did not mind showing pride or contempt, but it was rare that they displayed any emotion other than these; even these, they rarely designated 'emotions.'  Here, in the faces, voices, and movements of the Komislavians, Kiacyl saw many emotions, some of which he didn't know how to identify.  This encouraged him somewhat, assuring him that other Komislavians were, in fact, very different from Djaisiuk, at least when in groups.  He wondered whether they were this open when they were with Vukasovians.
 

The conversations slowly diminished and ceased as Kiacyl approached, answering his unspoken question.  The boys all looked at him silently, waiting for him to state his purpose for being there.  He was a Vukasovian and must, therefore, have some particular purpose for approaching them, they seemed to assume, reasonably enough.
 

Kiacyl looked at them.  Their faces were very different from Djaisiuk; although similar in the prominent Komislavian physical features, they were completely different in expression.  They looked quite friendly, really.  They looked about what he would normally have expected for Komislavians.  Their faces were open and most looked kind, emotions showing clearly on all of their features as though they didn't care whether the whole world knew what they were thinking.  Kiacyl could read clearly, for example, that the tall, blond one was afraid of him, the small, brown-haired boy was curious about him, and the tanned-skinned one who was apparently the eldest was suspicious of him.  If they were this easy to read, Kiacyl thought to himself, then he would surely have no difficulty in learning enough about them to one day assume the position of intermediary between his own race and those members of theirs who worked here.
 

"I am Kiacyl," he said at last.  "Your friend Jysuke will not be coming tonight.  He gave me leave to bring the news to you."
 

The boys looked at one another.  Most looked disappointed, though they did not seem surprised.  Only the little blond-haired boy looked confused.
 

"Do you mean Djaisiuk?" he asked.
 

Immediately, Kiacyl felt uncomfortable, though he was careful not to show it.  He had assumed that the orderly had spoken the correct name, but now he realized that it might not have been so.  The name that the young boy had just said sounded similar, but it also sounded very difficult to pronounce.
 

"I mean the other Komislavian of your group," he said carefully.  "The one whose mental abilities are beyond those of any of you."
 

"Yes, that's Djaisiuk," nodded one with a smile.
 

"Did he say whether he might come another night?" asked the little brown-haired boy.
 

"I doubt that he will," replied Kiacyl.  "I work with him until his supper time.  He is served that meal about the fourth hour of the day and is then expected to continue working afterwards, I believe.  I would assume that he is generally asleep before the sixth hour.  I don't think that he has the time to come."
 

The one who was apparently the oldest frowned.  "Why do they work him so hard?" he said to the red-haired young man sitting next to him.  "Just because he acts like a machine doesn't make him one.  He is still human."
 

The red-haired boy cleared his throat and cast a glance towards Kiacyl as if to warn the older one to guard his words.
 

"I don't care who hears it!" continued the oldest unperturbed, apparently not in good humor tonight.  He then turned to look at Kiacyl as he spoke again.  "They've no right to treat him so!"
 

Kiacyl carefully hid a smile.  Yes, he thought, be open with your anger as well as your approval.  I will need all of the information that you would care to give me.
 

"You said that you work with Djaisiuk?" said one of the boys to Kiacyl.
 

Turning his head to look at the one who had spoken, Kiacyl could not fully hide his surprise at the boy's features.  This one was different from the others in that he had silver hair and eyes.  Kiacyl had never seen such a thing.  He was so fascinated that at first he forgot to answer.
 

"Oh, yes," he said quickly, remembering himself.  "I work with him daily."
 

"Then you must be pretty smart!" said the little blond-haired boy.
 

Kiacyl gave half a smile at this, trying to look modest but happy for the opportunity to ingratiate himself with them somewhat.  "Perhaps," he said, "but not compared to Djaisiuk.  He is a genius like no other, although I've been told that you are all considerable geniuses, coming, as I understand that you do, from your IC School."
 

Several of the boys looked somewhat uncomfortable or embarrassed at this, and none answered.  KiacylKiacyl's own age broke the silence.
 

"Was there anything more?" he asked.
 

"No," Kiacyl answered slowly.  "That is, there was nothing more from . . . Djaisiuk.  For myself, I'd welcome the opportunity to learn more about your race first-hand.  Your friend is the first Komislavian whom I've ever met, but he doesn't seem anything like what I'd been taught to expect from your race."
 

"No, Djaisiuk is nothing like us," murmured the tall blond boy quietly.
 

"What have you been taught to expect?" asked the oldest in an almost sarcastic tone of voice.
 

"You are welcome to join us, if that is what you want," said the silver-eyed boy, almost interrupting the oldest one.  "You may learn a lot through observation and interaction."
 

"Thank you," said Kiacyl, sitting down between the speaker and the small brown-haired boy.  "I would like that.  I had thought that if I could learn a bit more about Komislavians in general, I might be able to understand Djaisiuk a little better.  He seems a very strange person to me."
 

"He seems strange to most people," laughed the other, "and if you can learn to understand him, you'll have to instruct most of us as well.  Regardless, you're welcome to glean all that you can from us."
 

"You said that your name is Kiacyl?" asked the older red-haired one.
 

"Yes," answered Kiacyl.  "And what are all of your names?"
 

"Do you think that you could remember all of them?" the young man asked with a half-smile.  But, without waiting for an answer, he continued: "My name is Jade, and this is Jaeger.  Leil is there to Jaeger's right, and Eriane is next to him.  Wysire is there on your left, and to your right is Cycil.  Sandy is the bright-eyed little chap next to him, and this is Detrin."
 

Kiacyl looked at them all in turn, trying to establish the names with the faces in his own mind.  Wysire would be easy, he thought, because of his silver hair and eyes.  Jaeger was the one who seemed to be the oldest (and least friendly), and Jade looked to be next in age, though their names were so similar (in his own mind) that he was sure that he would mix them up.  The others might be difficult too, he thought.
 

"I'll try to remember them," said Kiacyl.  "I notice that most of your names are easy to pronounce.  Why is Djaisiuk's name so strange?"
 

"A strange name for a strange person," answered Detrin.  "Djaisiuk is unique indeed, as I'm sure that you've noticed by now if you work with him daily."
 

"I'd never met another Komislavian before him, so I didn't know whether he was really strange or not," answered Kiacyl.  "All I know is that his name is hard to pronounce.  Vukasovian names are so much easier."
 

"Of course they are," laughed Cycil, "to a Vukasovian.  But several of them are hard for me to pronounce.  Our supervisor -- Sandy's and mine -- is named Jiaril.  Try to tell me that that isn't hard to say!"
 

"That's a very common Vukasovian name," replied Kiacyl.  "And yes, I would say that it's easy to say."
 

"Even if they were always easier to pronounce," put in Jade, "I'd still prefer our names.  Vukasovian names are so much less expressive than Komislavian ones, if what I've been told is true."
 

"What do you mean?" asked Kiacyl.  "What have you been told?"
 

"I was given to understand that Vukasovian names have no meaning," replied Jade.  "Is that true?"
 

Kiacyl frowned in mild confusion.  "I don't understand the question," he said.
 

"Well, just as an example, can you tell me what the name 'Kiacyl' means?" asked Jade.
 

"It means me," said Kiacyl, still frowning.  "Kiacyl is my name.  Mine isn't a common name, so you won't find many times where it means anything other than me.  There certainly aren't any others in this facility, though there are a few different Jiarils."
 

"Yes, but apart from being your name, apart from meaning you, does it mean anything else?"
 

"No," said Kiacyl slowly.  "It doesn't mean anything by itself any more than any other name.  Why should it?"
 

"Among the Komislavians, the names often tell something about the person," Jade replied.  "My name means 'green'.  I was named for my eyes.  Wysire's name means 'silver hair'.  (The origin there is obvious.)  Faquire, who isn't here, is named for his red hair.  Leil means . . . ."  Jade trailed off, looking at Leil and seeming unsure of whether to continue.
 

"'Thin and pale,'" said Leil quietly.
 

"I would have said 'delicate' or something like that," began Jade, but Leil shook his head.
 

"My name fits me," he said.  "I'm used to it."
 

"So your names all describe what you look like?" asked Kiacyl.
 

"No, not all of them," replied Jade, "though a lot of Komislavian names do.  But sometimes they tell something about the person other than their physical appearance.  Djaisiuk is a perfect example: his name means 'very great (or enormous) intelligence'."
 

"Then why do you say that his name is unusual among your people?  All of you are geniuses, aren't you?  Why wouldn't that name be more common?"
 

"No one can know whether someone is going to be a genius when they're first born," said Cycil.  "It isn't until they start to grow that you can tell."
 

"Vukasovians can tell," said Kiacyl.  "And surely with someone of such high intellect as Djaisiuk, even the Komislavians should be able to tell."
 

"Children on our planet aren't tested in that way, unless they're born in Scavia where the IC School is located," said Wysire.  "Even then it's up to the parents as to whether or not they're tested."
 

"Then how did the one who named Djaisiuk know that he would be so intelligent?  Was he born in your IC School?"
 

"No, he was born on a farm, I believe," replied Wysire.  "But now that you mention it, I don't know how his parents knew to name him that.  I never thought about it before now."
 

"Djaisiuk wasn't named that when was born," said Jade.  "Apparently his parents changed his name just before they brought him to the IC school.  By then, they had realized how smart he was, and I suppose that they thought that he ought to have an appropriate name."
 

"Do you know what his name was before that?" asked Sandy.
 

"Yes," answered Jade slowly.  "I understand that he was named Daeshu when he was born."
 

"Daeshu?" laughed Cycil.  "I can't imagine calling Djaisiuk 'Daeshu'!  I'd think that he'd be offended."
 

"Still, it does fit, you must admit," said Jade.

"Why?" asked Kiacyl, trying not to look confused (or too interested).  "What does it mean?"
 

"Daeshu means 'little one' or 'small person'," Jade explained.  "You may have noticed that Djaisiuk's a fair bit shorter than a normal person would be at his age.  Probably it fit very well when he was born, and really it still does.  His parents may have been concerned though that he would be teased about his size when he went to school, and having a name like Daeshu wouldn't help that."
 

"Then why would he have been named that in the first place, if that was a concern?" asked Kiacyl.
 

"They couldn't have known when he was born that he'd eventually go to the IC School," said Cycil.  "And on the farm, there would be little fear of anyone teasing him about his size in an unfriendly way.  They'd all be family."
 

"Then his family lives on a farm?" asked Kiacyl.  "Even with how valuable he is himself?"
 

"Yes, they do," nodded Jade.  "The overwhelming majority of Komislavians are farmers, and they enjoy it very much.  I think that nearly all of us came from farming families.  Jaeger would be the only exception."
 

"While we're on the subject, how were you so aptly named, Jaeger?" asked Wysire.
 

Jade laughed heartily at this, so Jaeger was required to wait a moment before answering.
 

"I think that my father always hoped that it would fit," he answered, smiling a little.  "He knew that if I took after him, it certainly would."
 

"At the risk of sounding redundant," said Kiacyl, "what does Jaeger mean?"
 

"Jaeger means 'wild' or 'wild-cat'," answered Jaeger, "whichever you prefer.  My father is not a farmer, as Jade mentioned; he's a hunter.  There aren't many of them on Komislava, and few of those that there are are any good.  My father is one of the best."
 

"And you look like a wild-cat too, most of the time," laughed Jade.
 

At this, Jaeger assumed an air of mock indignance, and Jade responded with a look of mock repentance.
 

"So all of your names describe something about you?" asked Kiacyl.  "That's . . . interesting.  Rather strange, if I may say so."
 

"Well, not all of our names do," said Cycil.  "My name has no meaning, but I think that I'm the only one like that among us twelve.  The only one without any meaning, that is."
 

"Your name has a meaning," countered Jade.  "It means 'scepter.' "
 

"I never knew that," said Cycil.  "How did you know?"
 

"Jade knows the meaning of every Komislavian name in existence," said Jaeger.  "I knew that Cycil was a nearly ancient Komislavian name and isn't used often anymore, but I didn't know its meaning either until now."
 

"Very well then," said Cycil.  "I stand corrected: my name does have a meaning.  But if it does mean 'scepter,' then I still wouldn't say that it really 'fits' me."
 

"Creole's name doesn't really apply to him either, but I don't know how it would apply to anyone else," said Jade.  Seeing Kiacyl's look, he quickly explained.  "Creole mean 'free song' (like a bird's song, not a person's song) or 'song of freedom', depending on who translates it.  I suppose that it could fit him in that his spirit is very strong; he'll always be free in that respect.  But as far as the song part goes, I don't know."
 

"Creole?" asked Kiacyl.
 

"Another you haven't met," replied Jade.  "He's one of the three whom your people are holding prisoner."
 

"And they're not holding us prisoner?" muttered Jaeger.
 

A short uncomfortable silence fell, but it was soon broken by Sandy's young voice.
 

"Would you say that your name fits you, Detrin?" he asked.
 

"You mean would I consider myself 'subtle'?"  Detrin smiled.  "I honestly don't know why my parents named me that.  I suppose that they just liked the name."
 

"That's generally the way that Vukasovian children are named," said Kiacyl, "when the father chooses the name."
 

"What about when the mother chooses the name?" asked Jade with a smile.  "Do they have meaning then?"
 

Kiacyl stiffened.  He looked at Jade for a moment, then said simply, "They don't."
 

"They don't have meaning?  Or the mothers don't name the children?" asked Jade.
 

"The latter."
 

"Just out of curiosity then, do girls ever talk about what they'd like their children to be named?" continued Jade.
 

Kiacyl frowned at him, appearing grossly offended.  He then turned away without answering.  Jade blinked in surprise.
 

"Did I say something wrong?" asked Jade.  "I'm sorry if I offended you."
 

Kiacyl took a controlled breath, seeming to regain control of himself.
 

"I'm only thirteen," he said, looking at Jade again.  "I may look older, but I'm not."
 

Jade continued to look at Kiacyl in surprise, seeming at a loss.
 

"Oh," he said at last.  "I . . . um . . . alright."  He glanced at Jaeger, but the latter as well as all of the other boys looked just as confused.
 

"If the mother doesn't decide the name, then why do you say, 'when the father decides the name'?" asked Cycil.  "Wouldn't he always make that decision?"
 

"Yes, if the child has a father," nodded Kiacyl.  "But in the cases where there is no father, then the geneticists do."
 

The boys again looked at Kiacyl silently for a moment, none seeming to understand this last statement.  Sandy and Cycil looked very confused.
 

"How can someone not have a father?" asked Sandy slowly.
 

"Not everyone does," shrugged Kiacyl, looking as though it were obvious.  "In fact, I'd say that more don't than do.  Is it different on your planet?"
 

"On Komislava, everyone has a father," replied Wysire.  "Sometimes the father may die or be killed before the child is old enough to remember him, but that is very rare."
 

"Then you don't use geneticists?"
 

"Apparently that word means something different here," murmured Detrin.
 

"I know what he means," said Eriane, speaking for the first time.  "And no, we don't ever do things that way on Komislava.  But even with the methods you mean, there has to be a father somewhere."
 

"Of course, someone is the father, if you look at it that way," admitted Kiacyl, "but with those children, nobody really knows or cares who it is."
 

"But don't the children care?" asked Sandy, looking horrified at this thought.
 

"No," answered Kiacyl, shaking his head.  "What difference would it make anyway?  Either the father is below the son, in which case the son would rather not know who he is, or the father is above the son, and the father wouldn't want to admit to being the father.  With most of them, it's the latter case."
 

"That's horrible!" exclaimed Cycil.  "How could the father be so unfeeling?!"
 

Kiacyl looked at him, trying to hide his contempt at such a statement.  "Do you think that Vukasovians have no pride?"
 

"I think that they have far too much," muttered Jaeger.
 

"Kiacyl, do you have a father?" asked Eriane.
 

"Yes," replied Kiacyl without hesitation.
 

"Does he care about you?"
 

"Do you mean does he take care of me?" asked Kiacyl.  "Or are you asking whether he knows about me?"
 

Sandy gave a little gasp of shock at this question, but Eriane did not react.
 

"Well, neither, actually," replied Eriane.  "I mean does he love you?"
 

Again, Kiacyl frowned.  "Vukasovians are unsullied by such weakening emotions," he replied.
 

Eriane nodded, not looking convinced.  "Alright then," he said.  "But if something were to happen to you, how would he react?"
 

"Something such as?"
 

"If you were to, say, contract a disease," began Eriane, looking as though he were trying to choose his words well.  "If it were suddenly discovered that you were going to die, would he be upset?"
 

Kiacyl considered for a moment.  "Do you mean if there was nothing that he could do about it?" he asked.  "Or are you asking whether he would do something if he could?"
 

"If there was nothing that could be done," replied Eriane.
Kiacyl 

shook his head.  "Probably not," he said.  "There'd be no reason for him to be upset, if there was nothing that could be done, because that would simply interfere with his work.  Vukasovians never allow emotions to interfere with efficiency."
 

Eriane still didn't look convinced, but neither did he press the point.  "Have you ever known--" he began again, then paused.  "Have any of your friends or acquaintances -- the boys you knew when you were growing -- have any of them died from complications with genetic abnormalities?"
 

Kiacyl looked at him blankly for a moment, then suddenly burst into laughter.  "You can't be serious!" he said.
Eriane looked at him confused.  "I am," he said.
 

"Do you think I was raised in a cell?" scoffed Kiacyl.  "Of course, they did.  Over a quarter of the boys in my first-year group died or were put away that year.  Not nearly so many were lost in the following years, but we'd always lose at least one, and usually more.  I'm in a smaller group now that I'm past twelve, so I expect that they'll all live at least a few years, but there's little way to be sure."  He again gave a short, scornful laugh.  "I can't believe that you'd even have to ask such a thing."
 

The other boys all looked at him in shock and horror.  Some looked at Eriane, wanting to question him, but Eriane looked only at Kiacyl.
 

"Do you feel nothing then?" asked Eriane with a frown.  "How can you laugh about so many dying?"
 

"I'm laughing at the fact that you would even ask," replied Kiacyl, growing serious and almost harsh.  "Of course I've had comrades and acquaintances die.  It's a way of life for us.  If I was as horrified as you seem to be with each death I'd ever experienced, then I'd be useless as a worker or anything else.  It doesn't affect me because it can't."
 

"You're still young, as you've said.  Do you know whether it affects the parents of those who die?"
 

Kiacyl assumed a contemptuous expression.  "If it does affect them, then they're generally wise enough not to let it show."
 

"May I suggest that we change the subject?" asked Jaeger, seeing the distraught expressions on the faces of the two youngest.  "I think that this one has been fairly exhausted, or at least enough so for the present.  Suppose we begin devotions now.  It's getting late enough."
 

Kiacyl was curious about this 'devotions,' and the boys explained very briefly what was meant by it.  Kiacyl then said nothing more on the subject, but he remained with them and observed their devotions silently.

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 18 - Conflict

In the afternoon of the sixth day, Kandryl made his way through the work areas of each of the Komislavian boys, checking on their work and also gauging any residual emotion that may have lingered from the night previous.  The youngest three seemed to have been very much affected, but most of the older ones showed little or no change.  It was, of course, possible, Kandryl reasoned, that the older ones were simply better able to hide their emotions.  Eriane was, understandably, the most changed; he was silent and withdrawn, and he refused to look Kandryl in the eye when the other visited his work area.  Kandryl was not surprised by this, and he did not attempt to speak with Eriane directly.  Leil seemed a little more quiet than usual, but he was always so quiet and shy that it was hard to tell whether he was any more so today than any other day.  Observing him, Kandryl found himself longing for the successful completion of the testing phase of this experiment, when he would be able to put away this one who was, indeed, not worth keeping alive.  Still, until the testing phase was complete, all of the boys needed to remain alive and in good physical and mental health, if at all possible.
 

Kandryl checked on Jaeger last.  He saw that Jaeger's work was being done well and that Jaeger answered any pertinent questions without hesitation.  Indeed, if Jaeger had been at all affected by the previous night, he hid it well.  As Kandryl was finishing and preparing to leave however, Jaeger arrested his attention.
"If you please, sir," said Jaeger as Kandryl had started to turn away, "may I ask you a question relating to the treatment of certain other members of my group?"
 

Kandryl turned back, guarded.  He was not about to give any information regarding either Djaisiuk or the other three imprisoned ones, about whom he was sure that Jaeger was going to ask.  However, he simply said, "You may ask."
 

"Two of my Komislavian brothers, Wysire and Detrin," began Jaeger, "had brought books with them when they exited our ship.  These have been taken from them with no reason given and have not been returned.  May I ask whether this was by your orders?"
 

"What were the books?" asked Kandryl, arching an eyebrow.
 

"They were books which meant a great deal to each of them," answered Jaeger evasively.  "You must understand that, being an emotional race, it is not particularly easy for any of us to acclimate ourselves to these new positions in any short period of time.  Having the one possession that they each chose to bring taken from them for no apparent reason did nothing to assist in the acclimation."
 

Kandryl smiled somewhat condescendingly.  "You are deliberately avoiding my question," he said softly.  "What were the books?"
 

Jaeger hesitated only a moment.  "Each brought his Bible," he said.
 

"In that case, yes to the one and no to the other," Kandryl answered.  "In the one case, I did give the order; in the other I did not."
 

"In the one where you did not, may I ask whether he would be allowed to have his Bible returned?" asked Jaeger.
 

"I left the fate of the counselor to his supervisor," replied Kandryl.  "If Moru thought it best that he not have a copy of that book, then I will stand by his decision."
 

Jaeger blinked.  "I--" he began, seeming unsure of his words.  "I had thought that, if you gave the order in only one of the two cases, you would have taken Wysire's Bible before Detrin's."  He paused.  "I don't understand."
 

"I did order that no religious material was to be allowed in the case of the electrician," said Kandryl, "but I gave no orders regarding the reading materials of the counselor."
 

Jaeger continued to look at him in confusion.  "Why Detrin?" he asked.  "As you say, he is an electrician.  What difference would it make with him?"
 

"He was the one who exited your ship with burned hands, was he not?" asked Kandryl.
 

Jaeger had to think hard for a moment to remember.  "Yes," he said at last, growing a little angry despite himself.  "Yes, he did, but only because you or one of your men sent a power surge through the wiring while he was working on it!"
 

Kandryl nodded.  "That was the one," he said.  "I do not take kindly to insurrection.  He defied me."
 

"We all did!" exclaimed Jaeger angrily.  "He was acting under my orders.  Any of us would have done the same.  Djaisiuk himself was--"  Jaeger cut off suddenly, fearing he may have said too much.  Kandryl's expression had changed as soon as Djaisiuk's name entered the conversation, but it quickly returned to his customary cool attitude and condescending smile.
 

"You were saying?" said Kandyl.  "Djaisiuk himself . . . ?"
 

"Forgive me," said Jaeger, lowering his eyes and avoiding the question.  "I'm afraid that I nearly lost my temper.  It is a area with which I struggle."
 

"No need to apologize," Kandryl assured him.  "Please continue."
 

"I was only going to say," said Jaeger, "that it seems hardly fair to punish Detrin when he was only acting under orders."
 

"Whose orders?" asked Kandryl.
 

"Mine."
 

"Then would you prefer that I punished you?" asked Kandryl softly.
 

"I would always prefer that," Jaeger
 

Kandryl smiled, amused at the obvious change that had already come over Jaeger since their group had come to Vukosava.  Only three nights ago, he had assured Kandryl that he was not, indeed, the 'leader' of the boys, although 'they would follow him if they felt that his decision was correct.'  Now, when it appeared that one member of the crew would be punished for something that Jaeger had asked him to do, Jaeger was suddenly the definite and undisputed leader of the group.  It was true that Jaeger had not made such a bold claim as this, perhaps, but his intent was clear.  And it was as amusing as it was obvious.
 

"Very well," said Kandryl at last.  "If that is your preference, then so be it.  Have you one of these books?"
 

Jaeger stiffened ever so slightly.  "I have," he answered.  "But it is this book which makes me what I am, and it is the same with any and all of the others.  We need them.  If you must punish me or any of us for our 'insurrection,' as you call it, then please use some way other than taking our scriptures."
 

An expression of thinly veiled disgust passed swiftly over Kandryl's face at the last word.  He straightened somewhat and held out a hand.  "You will give me your book," he said.
 

"Please, will you return Detrin's?" Jaeger asked.
 

"No."
 

"What of Wysire's?" persisted Jaeger.  "Seeing that you did not order it, will you not return his to him?"
 

"I will not," Kandryl answered.  His hand was still outstretched toward Jaeger, and his voice hardened as he continued, "I said, you will give me your book."
 

Jaeger hesitated.  "If I refuse?" he asked.
 

"Then I will immediately instruct every supervisor of your friends to search each of them and their quarters for any copy, complete or otherwise of these religious manuscripts and destroy them all," answered Kandryl.
 

Jaeger held Kandryl's gaze for a moment as if unsure as to whether or not to believe him, but there was no bluff in Kandryl's hard expression.  His smile was long gone.  He was serious.  Slowly Jaeger lowered his eyes and reached inside his uniform to pull a small book from an inner breast pocket.  This he carefully handed to Kandryl.
Kandryl 

held the book lightly between his thumb and forefinger.  He lifted his hand to look at the book a little closer, the expression of mild disgust showing on his face again, then shook his head.
 

"What a waste," he said.  "The stupidity of your race will never cease to amaze me.  You reject weaponry that can make you strong, yet you cling so stubbornly to a piece of ancient religion that only makes you weak.  What a waste indeed."
 

Kandryl stepped to one wall of the room and kicked an incinerator to life.  He held the small Bible out, about to drop it in, but Jaeger spoke quickly.
 

"Please sir," he said.
 

Kandryl paused and looked at him, still holding the book over the humming incinerator.  Jaeger licked his lips as if trying to decide what to say.
 

"If you must destroy it," he said at last, "will you at least first explain why?"
 

"I expect obedience from those under me," said Kandryl, "whether or not I explain myself."  With that, he dropped the book.  There was a soft hiss and the book was gone.  Kandryl again kicked the incinerator, and it shut down.  "Return to your work," Kandryl instructed, and he turned and walked out of the room.
 

Jaeger stared after him for a moment in silence as Kandryl's footsteps died away down the hallway.  Slowly Jaeger lowered himself into a chair and pressed a hand to his forehead.
 

"Lord God, tell me what to do," he prayed quietly.  "In the name of Jesus, please tell me what to do."

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 17 - An Invitation

The next day went very well, as far as Djaisiuk was concerned.  He was left to work as he pleased with no hindrances.  His meals were served regularly, and there was no emotional stress put on him through half-veiled or open threats.  In fact, Kandryl did not come into the room at all.  Kiacyl was there to “help” if possible, and Djaisiuk was able to find some small tasks to put to him that were not overly difficult.  This seemed a waste of time to Djaisiuk, for, being used to working alone, he could have accomplished the tasks in less time than it took to give them to Kiacyl and to look over them once the latter had finished.  Nevertheless, he did so.  The longing for his instrument was still there, but it was considerably lessened with the absence of extraneous stressful circumstances.  The work itself was consuming enough to make his piano desirable, and Djaisiuk knew that this would only grow once he began the dangerous work of preparing his program of escape.  At that time, he might require his instrument, he realized.  But that too was an unknown, and it played no part in his current activities, therefore he continued to work without devoting undue thought or worry to it.

* * * * * * *

In the afternoon, as Kiacyl and Djaisiuk were working, the door to the workroom opened to admit a young orderly.  Kiacyl looked up immediately to see who it was.  Seeing the orderly, he then glanced at Djaisiuk, assuming that whatever message the orderly might be bringing must certainly be for him, but Djaisiuk paid no heed to the young man's entrance.  The orderly came to attention just inside the door and began to speak as soon as Kiacyl looked at him a second time.

“I come bearing a message to the one called Jysuke,” he said.  “It is sent by those who name themselves ‘his Komislavian friends.’”

Kiacyl -- making a mental note of Djaisiuk's improperly pronounced name, seeing that this was the first time that he had heard it -- turned to look at Djaisiuk again, but the latter still did not look up from his work.

“He’ll be with you shortly,” said Kiacyl, turning back to the messenger.

The messenger frowned and curled his lip in distaste.  “I’m not here to wait on the convenience of a Komislavian,” he said haughtily.  “I’ve a message to deliver, and if he won’t hear it, then that’s no fault of mine.”

“You’ll do as you’re told,” Kiacyl responded in low voice.  “And I'm telling you to wait.”

The orderly narrowed his eyes and looked at Kiacyl scornfully, a look which Kiacyl returned with one of warning.  Neither said anything more, however, because Djaisiuk turned around just then, having reached a good stopping place in his work.  The orderly looked from one to the other for a very quick moment, then lifted his chin and delivered his message.

“Jysuke’s Komislavian friends wish to extend their thanks to him for allowing them to speak with him last night,” he almost snapped in a tone of voice that did not in any way correspond with the sentiments expressed by the words themselves.  “They also desire to inform him that they wish very much to be allowed to spend more time with him in the near future.  To this end, they are desirous of informing him that they meet every evening for dinner in the main eating room of the second floor of the Detu section between the fifth and seventh hours of the evening, and that they would be most honored if he would deign to join them either tonight or on any and every other night of his convenience.”

Djaisiuk was silent for a moment, looking at the messenger expressionlessly as if waiting to see whether the latter had finished.  When it was apparent that he had, Djaisiuk turned without a word and resumed his work.

The orderly looked impatient.  “Will there be any reply?” he asked sharply.

Kiacyl looked at Djaisiuk then back at the messenger.  “No,” he said.  “There is no reply.”

"You speak for him then?" sneered the orderly, raising an eyebrow.

"You've delivered your message," replied Kiacyl acidly.  "You may leave."

The orderly again curled his lip in disdain then turned and left the room.  Kiacyl glared after him angrily before returning to his own work.  Kiacyl had never killed a person, but he felt sure that if he ever decided to do so, he would begin with an orderly.

Kiacyl was not of the intelligence level that was generally required for workers in his position.  It was only his connection with a rather important official among the Vukasovians that allowed him to continue to work at all.  He knew that that was why he had now been the one assigned to work with Djaisiuk.  No Vukasovian with higher intelligence would have acceded to such a position willingly, and Kandryl had needed someone who would add no stress to the workload of this Komislavian.  True, Kandryl might himself attempt to cajole Djaisiuk through whatever means he chose; the denial of food to him for two days was ample evidence of that.  But none other than Kandryl was permitted to treat any of these Komislavians as anything less than Vukasovian intelligent workers.

The other intelligent workers of the facility who were his age knew that KiacylDjaisiuk, Kiacyl had been ashamed, knowing that he had been placed here only because no one better would have done it.  When he had realized the unbelievable intelligence of Djaisiuk coupled with the latter's behavior: so like a Vukasovian (despite his Komislavian looks), he had found relief.  He knew that this Komislavian would soon be considered very valuable.  If Kiacyl could prove himself a willing and able helper to him, then that would be of great worth in and of itself.  When Djaisiuk had given him his first task, Kiacyl had quickly seen that he would never be useful to this young man.  He was able to help a little now and then, he knew, but he also knew that, if asked, Djaisiuk would doubtless say that he was just as well off without Kiacyl as with.

Kiacyl knew that he might one day be deemed unworthy of continuing to work; the official for whom he was kept might fall out of favor with the government or might himself be killed or die of natural causes; Kiacyl might himself grow too old to be worth the expense of keeping him alive, considering the little use that he was in actuality.  He would be sixteen in less than three years, and he must prove himself valuable before then, or at least prove that he could become valuable before his eighteenth birthday.  The message about 'Djaisiuk's Komislavian friends' seemed to provide him with the perfect opportunity.

On Vukosava, the position of ambassador to Londar was considered the lowest possible post.  The occupant of that position was usually someone of less than desirable intelligence, simply because no one else would be willing to accept such a situation.  Even Kiacyl would prefer to be put away than to lower himself to such a disgraceful position.  But there were no ambassadors to Komislava.  There never had been, as far as Kiacyl knew.  The Vukasovians would treat with other races only when the race was powerful enough that the Vukasovians could benefit from the alliance or weak enough that the other race would fully acknowledge the superiority of the Vukasovian race.  Hence, until what time as the Vukasovians could somehow subjugate the Komislavian race, even somewhat, there would be no ambassador to their race.

Kiacyl understood the experiment that was now underway.  He knew that if it succeeded (and he had no doubt that it would), there would eventually need to be someone who understood the Komislavian mind well enough to be able to treat with them on their own level.  True, Kandryl seemed perfectly capable of this at the present time, but the great leader was aging; even now, he was approaching forty -- a considerable age for a Vukasovian -- and Kiacyl knew that he would not last forever.  Also, no other Vukasovian seemed interested in learning more of the Komislavian race.  They would work with these few geniuses because they had no choice, but they would not have chosen these positions.  If Kiacyl could himself learn of these Komislavians and perhaps even gain their trust, surely his people would consider him worth saving for a time.

Yes, Kiacyl decided.  There was everything to be gained and little or nothing to be lost by meeting with the other Komislavian boys, should Djaisiuk allow him to do so.

“I was unaware that your friends had visited you,” said Kiacyl aloud, glancing at Djaisiuk.  "Do you intend to return the favor?"

Djaisiuk did not reply.  He had not reacted in any way to the message, and his work after it had been delivered had been no different than before.

“Are they much like you?”  asked Kiacyl, considering that, if so, he might have a very difficult time getting to know any of them.  “I’ve never heard that Komislavians were especially quiet people, but then I’d never met one before I met you.  Do you usually talk more when you’re with your friends?”

“No,” Djaisiuk responded.

Kiacyl looked at him in surprise, having hoped for an answer but not really expecting one.  Djaisiuk still did not look at him.

“Would you allow me to come with you tonight to see your friends?” Kiacyl continued slowly, seeing that Djaisiuk apparently had no intention of commenting further.  “As I said, I’ve never met any Komislavians besides you, and you certainly don’t fit the stereotype that I’ve always heard described.  I'm interested in learning more about your race.”

Djaisiuk didn’t answer.

“Do you intend to go?” asked Kiacyl.

Djaisiuk still made no reply.

“If you don’t intend to go, would you object if I went instead of you?” Kiacyl persisted, turning again to his work.

“No,” replied Djaisiuk.

“So you don’t intend to go?” asked Kiacyl, looking at Djaisiuk again and trying to avoid looking hopeful.  Going without Djaisiuk would be much better than going with him, Kiacyl decided.  He waited only a moment, but no reply came.  “Would you even be allowed to go?” he continued.  “Come to think of it, you receive your supper at the fourth hour, don’t you?  I know that you are on a different time schedule than most of the rest of the facility.  And I hadn’t thought about it earlier, but I’ve never been told whether you’re even allowed to leave these rooms.  Are you?”

Djaisiuk made no answer.

“Very well then,” said Kiacyl, “I’ll go without you, if that’s what you want.  I’m sure that your friends will wonder at your absence.  I can at least tell them that you are well, although I don’t know if I can tell them that you are normal.  Is this normal for you?”

Djaisiuk still made no reply, and Kiacyl made no further inquiries.  He would wait.  Tonight would tell much.

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 16 - Eriane

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.”