THE TWELVE -- Chapter 29 - Detection

It was the sixteenth day of capture, and Kandryl was uneasy.  Something was wrong, but he could not identify exactly what it was.  Perhaps it had been Djaisiuk's behavior on the night previous.  Kandryl had not been watching Djaisiuk constantly, but he had been curious to see whether Djaisiuk would speak to Faquire.  He had, therefore, gone over the security recording of the day's happenings in Djaisiuk room before retiring for the night yesterday, skipping over most of it and watching only what he thought might be helpful.  Most of the day had shown Djaisiuk acting precisely as Kandryl would have expected him to act.  This was cautiously comforting.  But the incident with the piano at the end of the day had been disconcerting.  Kandryl could not say what about the incident made him uneasy; Djaisiuk had maintained his impassive silence and expressionless face throughout it all.  He had completely ignored Faquire when the latter had been very obviously affected.

Djaisiuk played his piano often, and Kandryl had become accustomed to this, but something about his playing last night had been different.  Kandryl searched his mind, trying to identify what it was that had been different, but to no avail.  Also, why had Faquire been so affected?  Perhaps it had simply been a piece of music that had emotional meaning to Faquire about which Djaisiuk had known nothing.  Perhaps Faquire had been affected by something completely separate from the music.  But either of these seemed to be too great of a coincidence.  The old mistrust that Kandryl had felt from the beginning about Djaisiuk now resurfaced.  Djaisiuk was far deeper than he appeared, and Kandryl knew that he had scarcely begun to plumb those depths. 

The testing period of the experiment was nearly complete.  Soon Kandryl's superiors would come to see the results of the tests.  On the surface, he knew that they would be exceptionally pleased with Djaisiuk: he was a hard worker, a genius beyond all Vukasovian geniuses, and, in matters of work, he obeyed immediately and without question.  He was perfect.  He would, even alone without any of the others, convince Kandryl's superiors that this experiment was worth continuing.

And yet Kandryl was uneasy.

Eight of the other boys worked well, though several of them were questionable yet; still, it would be some time more before they would be ready for full integration into Vukasovian culture.  Three were rebellious, but these were useful for testing and observation.  And they were all still alive and healthy, even after nearly twenty days of imprisonment.  The experiment was going very well indeed.

And yet Kandryl was uneasy.

* * * * * * *

That afternoon, as he worked, one of the intelligence officers of the facility approached Kandryl.  Even before he spoke, his face told Kandryl that it was not pleasant news that he bore.  The officer indicated that his information was delicate, so Kandryl motioned him into a small side room.

"Sir, there has been an unauthorized access to the external controls detected," said the officer as Kandryl closed the door.

"Unauthorized access?" repeated Kandryl.  "When?  By whom?  Was it from within or without?"

"It seems that it occurred the night before last, but we've not yet been able to identify by whom or for what purpose," said the officer.  "It appears that it was done from within the facility, but even of that we cannot be entirely sure.  We began researching it early this morning when it was first discovered.  The information available concerning it was not complete, and, even as we researched it, more and more of the information disappeared."

"What do you mean it disappeared?" demanded Kandryl.

"Someone or something is systematically erasing all record of the incident," replied the officer.

"Did you create a backup of your research?" asked Kandryl.

"We did, sir," he nodded.  "We created two different backups, one with the regular backups and one in a secure location where few have access, but they have both been erased entirely.  When it happened the first time, we began printing hard copies of each piece as it was found."

The officer produced several printed pages of code and spread them on the small table in the room.  "This was the only way that we could be certain of them not being destroyed without our knowledge," he said.  "Look here: on the surface, this small block of code seems to have no purpose.  It was apparently used somehow in connection with the incident, though we don't yet know how.  If you look at this program now, this block is gone, and there is no trace to indicate that it has ever been there apart from this paper.  This one too, and this one, and this one," he continued, pointing to various pieces of code on other pages.

Kandryl snatched up two of the pages and examined them carefully.  These he recognized immediately as pieces of programs written entirely by Djaisiuk, though reviewed and possibly edited by others.

Djaisiuk, he thought.  Who else could have done this?

"Have you identified who or what has been erasing the codes?" asked Kandryl.

The officer shook his head.  "No, sir," he said.  "The code is simply erased without a trace of who or what is doing it.  One moment it's there; the next it's gone.  In truth, we have only these printed papers to assure ourselves that we're not simply imagining the whole thing."

"I assume that you still have several people working on this?" asked Kandryl.



Kandryl replaced the two pages with the others and gazed down at all of them, deep in thought.  "Continue your investigation and inform me immediately of any new discoveries," said Kandryl after a moment without looking at the officer.  "You are dismissed."

The officer saluted and left.

Kandryl stood alone in his small office.  He was playing a very deadly game, he knew.  He had known this from the time that he had decided to keep Djaisiuk alive as a worker, but it was brought home far more now.

Why had Djaisiuk wished to access the external controls?  It was possible, Kandryl considered, that someone else had done it using Djaisiuk's programs as a cover.  That was possible, but it was not likely.  It could easily be determined by asking Djaisiuk.  Kandryl did not believe that Djaisiuk would lie to him.  He may refuse to answer a question, but he would not answer with a lie.

Assuming that it had been Djaisiuk, what had he done?  What would Kandryl have done in his place?  No, that line of logic would not help, for his own experiences and desires had never helped in the past to predict what Djaisiuk might do.  He thought about what he knew of the other Komislavian boys; what might they have done in the same place?  That answer was simple: nothing.  They would not have attempted it.  They had discussed escape plans, it is true, but nothing more.  There was nothing in the external controls that could have helped with that.  If they had had Djaisiuk helping them, he might have been able to gain control of the internal controls.  And they could then have effected an escape quite nicely, though, of course, they would never have gotten far from the planet.  But why the external controls?

A ruse, Kandryl thought.  Possibly he had done something completely unrelated to the external controls, but had left a very light trail leading in a wrong direction with the intent of throwing off the scent anyone who discovered his extracurricular activities.  No, if it was Djaisiuk then he would simply erase all record of it and not allow anyone to find it in the first place.  But someone had found it.  Didn't that prove then that it hadn't been Djaisiuk?

This was a situation more difficult and more dangerous than any in which Kandryl had ever found himself.  One false step, one wrong conclusion, and it would cost him more than his position: it would cost him his life.  Kandryl had known this from the time that he had been given permission to attempt this experiment, but then he had had no fear of defeat.  His superiors had not been so certain, which was why they had left the entire responsibility (and the entire blame, should it fail) on Kandryl's shoulders.  They believed it possible for him to succeed, but the risks were greater than any of them would have been willing to swallow.  Kandryl had believed himself capable.  He still believed himself capable.  But if he failed, there would be no forgiveness, no second chance.  His people were as hard and unforgiving as he was himself.

Djaisiuk was smarter than was Kandryl, he knew.  If Djaisiuk was truly working against him, then the safest plan would be to kill him.  If Djaisiuk had accomplished what it appeared that he had accomplished, then Kandryl would not trust him even in a prison cell.  But he was not sure.  And what had Djaisiuk actually done?

Sabotage was a possibility, but it seemed unlikely.  If sabotage then why had he done it with the external rather than the internal controls?  If he could break into the external controls and leave it undetectable for two days and two nights, then surely he could have set some plan into action within the internal controls that would have made possible their escape from here.  He could have closed the entire facility, Kandryl was sure of it, by a complicated program of sorts placed within the internal controls of the facility.  Again came the question: why the external controls?

Perhaps it had been no more than a test; perhaps Djaisiuk had simply wanted to see whether he could do it and get away without detection.  Maybe he was simply trying to show Kandryl how intelligent and resourceful he could be.  It was possible that this was no more than a prank, a product of mischief and boredom.  On the surface, this seemed incredibly unlikely for Djaisiuk, but Kandryl reminded himself of how little he really knew about him.

Kandryl realized, at last, that with Djaisiuk lay the only answer.  He was systematically erasing all trace of the incident.  Kandryl could consider thousands of possibilities, but they would all be guesses.  The only way to truly know what Djaisiuk had done would be for Djaisiuk himself to tell him.  Kandryl knew that he was probably playing with fire in even keeping Djaisiuk alive now, but he still believed it worth the risk.  He still held onto the hope that this would prove to be nothing very serious, and that he would, in time, be able to bring Djaisiuk fully under his power.

How far he was willing to go to extract the information that he wanted remained to be seen.  One question would suffice to answer that: Kandryl would simply ask Djaisiuk whether he had indeed written the code used in the unauthorized access.  If Djaisiuk said no, then Kandryl could assume that Djaisiuk had not, in fact, been the one to perform the access, but rather someone else had simply used Djaisiuk's programs as a cover.  This seemed unlikely, but it was possible.  It was certainly the most preferred answer, for then Kandryl could utilize Djaisiuk himself in the search for exactly what had been done and by whom.  If Djaisiuk said yes, that he had written the code, then Kandryl could assume that he had performed the unauthorized access, but that nothing serious had been done.  If Djaisiuk had done something serious, then he would doubtless not admit to having written the code.  Kandryl could then question Djaisiuk as to why he had erased it (and whether he had erased it).  He may have to be a little harsh, but he doubted that it would, in this case, be difficult to extract the information that he wanted.  If Djaisiuk refused to answer, however, Kandryl knew that then was when he had most cause to worry.  In this last case, Kandryl was prepared to do whatever was necessary to find out exactly what Djaisiuk had done.

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 28 - Relocation

When they entered the prison cell, Faquire was lying on his cot, seemingly fast asleep.  Two of the guards roughly lifted him from the bed and set him on his feet.  He was awake in an instant and tried to stand, but he fell to the floor as soon as they let go of him.  Eriane leapt forward.

"Faquire," exclaimed Eriane.  "Faquire, are you alright?"

The guards did not wait, but immediately lifted him again and held him up by the arms.  Faquire tried to raise his head and blinked hard, trying to focus on Eriane.  It was then that Eriane realized that the drug given him earlier must not have worn off yet.

"Eriane?" said Faquire, still blinking hard and looking vaguely in the direction of Eriane's voice.

The guards moved forward without a word, half dragging, half carrying Faquire between the two of them.  The third guard followed behind, ready to relieve either of the other two, should they grow tired.  Eriane tried at first to delay them, wanting to speak to Faquire, but he realized quickly that the attempt was useless.  Wysire drew him back, and the two of them followed the guards silently down the many halls to Djaisiuk's workroom.

Upon entering the room, Eriane and Wysire saw that a small cot, similar to the ones in the holding cells, had been placed at the far side of the room.  There was an ankle restraint with a long cord attached to the wall at the foot of the cot.  On this cot, the two guards holding Faquire deposited him while the third attached the free end of the restraint to Faquire's left ankle.  The guards then left the room without a word, leaving the three boys alone.

Faquire lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and looking a little confused.

"Faquire?" said Eriane again, stepping up to the cot.

Faquire turned his head and tried hard to see Eriane in the jumbled masses that swam before his eyes.

"Eriane?" he said.  "What just happened?  Where am I?"

"You're in Djaisiuk's workroom," replied Eriane.  "He's not here right now though; he's asleep in the next room."

Faquire looked around as best he could, then shook his head.

"This isn't Djaisiuk's workroom," he said.  "It's too large.  I'm not so blind that I can't see that.  And if he's in bed, how would we have gotten into it?  No one can open the door but Djaisiuk."

"No, not that workroom," said Eriane.  "We're not on the ship, remember?  This is where he works now."

Faquire tensed and closed his jaw tightly as he turned his head again to look up at the ceiling.  For a moment, he said nothing.

"Why am I here?" he asked at last through clenched teeth.  "Does he want to experiment on me now?"

Eriane looked at Wysire, confused and concerned.  The latter stepped forward.

"Faquire, you said that you would agree to stay with Djaisiuk," said Wysire.  "Don't you remember?"

Faquire frowned and furrowed his brow in thought.  Finally he shook his head.  "No, I don't," he said.  "But I believe you.  Everything's been so strange lately, that I don't know what I've said or done."

Eriane and Wysire exchanged concerned glances.

"Faquire," said Eriane, "we discussed having you moved from the prison cells less than an hour ago.  I said that you ought to stay with one of us until you'd recovered from whatever drug they had given you.  You said that you wouldn't agree to it; that you didn't want them to think that you would serve them.  Then I suggested Djaisiuk.  You said that you would agree to stay with him if he didn't mind.  Do you remember that?"

Faquire thought hard, then nodded slowly.  "Yes, I think so," he said.

"We spoke with Kandryl -- Wysire and I," continued Eriane.  "He said that the decision was up to Djaisiuk.  We asked Djaisiuk, and he said that he did not mind.  So you were moved here."

Faquire looked around again.

"I wish I could see where I was," he said.  "I've had this often enough that I can tell that it's wearing off now, but I can also tell that it'll be a short time, at least, before I'll be able to see properly.  Where is Djaisiuk?  You said that he was asleep.  How did you ask him?"

"We woke him," said Wysire softly.  "Then he went back to bed."

"You woke him?" asked Faquire, with a grim smile.  "My, my.  Things have changed."

"Much has changed," agreed Wysire.

The three talked for a short time more, and Faquire's eyesight did return very nearly to normal before they left.  He was also able to sit up and look about a little, although it wasn't easy.  Eventually, they did have to leave, seeing that it was getting very late.  Wysire offered to turn off the light as they left, and Faquire said that he would enjoy being able to sleep in darkness.  He said that one never really appreciates such little luxuries until they are taken away.  So the two left, turning out the light as they went, and Faquire went back to sleep.


* * * * * * *
The next morning, Djaisiuk arose as usual and entered his workroom.  He might have been a little surprised at the light having been turned off, but he certainly didn't show it.  He turned it on and went immediately to his computers and began to work.  The light did not awaken Faquire.  As usual, KiacylDjaisiuk arose.  He started, at first, at the sight of Faquire, lying asleep there in the workroom, then stood for a moment in silence, frowning darkly.  After a short time, he turned and went to the computers.

"That's one of your former shipmates from the holding cells, isn't it?" Kiacyl asked Djaisiuk.  "Why is he here?"

Djaisiuk did not answer or even acknowledge the question.  Kiacyl waited a moment or two for an answer, then shook his head and began his own work.  He knew better than to expect an answer from Djaisiuk most of the time, but this was different; he expected at least a look or glance, acknowledging the question.

Faquire did wake up shortly after Kiacyl entered, and he lay for a moment looking around, seeming to be trying to remember where he was.  He had scarcely sat up when the door opened again to admit the usual orderly with three meal trays.  Faquire stiffened, seeing him, but the orderly took no notice of the young Komislavian in prison clothes.  He silently placed the meal trays on the round table then turned and left the room.

Faquire frowned after the orderly, then looked at the meal trays with suspicion.  When Djaisiuk turned from his work and moved to the table to eat, Faquire seemed to relax ever so slightly.  He steadied himself cautiously and swung his legs over the side of the cot.  As he stood, he first noticed Kiacyl.  Kiacyl gave him at first only a passing glance, but when Faquire continued to stare darkly at him, Kiacyl returned the look with a purely Vukasovian expression of haughty scorn before turning again to his computer.  Between them, it seemed that words were unnecessary; they communicated their opinions of one another very well without speech.  Had Faquire been friendly, Kiacyl would doubtless have been generous (from a Vukasovian point of view) in his behavior towards him.  But if Faquire wished to dislike him, then Kiacyl had no interest in playing.  He considered himself to be infinitely above this young prisoner, both by birth and position.  He certainly didn't need his friendship.

Djaisiuk took no notice of either and ate in silence.  Faquire joined him at the table and began to eat also.  He tried to speak to Djaisiuk in a very soft voice that Kiacyl could not overhear, but Djaisiuk paid him no heed.  Faquire soon ceased his attempts and the meal was finished in silence.

Most of the rest of the day continued in silence as well.  Faquire paced back and forth on the far side of the table from them, as far as his ankle restraint would allow as the other two worked.  He would watch Kiacyl suspiciously from time to time, but Kiacyl did not seem to care; for his part, he chose to ignore Faquire.  Djaisiuk looked at neither of them.

When two dinner dishes were eventually brought that evening, Kiacyl left the room to join the other boys, and Djaisiuk and Faquire were at last left alone.

"Djaisiuk," said Faquire aloud as they sat at the table together eating.  "Is that boy a spy?  Is he set here to keep an eye on you?"

Djaisiuk did not respond.

"I'm very grateful to you for allowing me to come and to stay with you, even if it's only for a short time," continued Faquire.  "You can't imagine how terrible it is to be holed up in that tiny cell with no privacy and people coming and going at all hours."  He shuddered.  "It must be unpleasant to have a Vukasovian with you constantly here too, but at least he's gone now.  Is he here every day?"

Still no response.

Faquire looked hard at Djaisiuk then lent forward, resting his arms on the table.

"Djaisiuk, won't you tell me why you serve them?" he asked quietly.  "I know that we're not to question you, but I must know.  Besides, we're not on Komislava, or even on a Komislavian ship, so the rules really don't apply here, do they?  Won't you tell me?"

Faquire looked long at him, but Djaisiuk gave no indication that he'd even heard the question.

"Have you seen Creole?" asked Faquire.  "Or Christopher?  Do you know whether they are as badly off as I was?  What are the Vukasovians doing to them now?  Do you think that they'll just kill them and me in time, seeing that we will never submit to working for them?  Are any of the others suffering the psychological torment of knowing that they really are working for the enemies of our race?"

Djaisiuk continued to eat, his face forever impassive.

"Djaisiuk, do you even care?" asked Faquire in a low voice, seeming to be speaking to himself as much as to Djaisiuk.

If Djaisiuk did care, he certainly didn't show it.  Faquire realized, as if for the first time, how little he knew Djaisiuk.  Did Djaisiuk care?  Was he concerned with anything or anyone beyond himself?  Why was he working for the Vukasovians?  Was it simply that he wanted to avoid the painful consequences of refusal?  Surely not!  But the doubt was there, just the same.  Why was he doing this?  And why wouldn't he say?

When the meal trays had finally been cleared away, Djaisiuk rose and went to his piano.  Closing his eyes, he began to play softly.  A soft, gentle melody crept through the room like a cool breeze or the soft sound of a stream on a summer's day.  As Djaisiuk continued to play, Faquire, sitting on his cot again, felt that he could see his home on Komislava.  The wind rustled through the trees, and the young calves leapt and played in the meadows.  Faquire closed his eyes and felt the warm sunlight and smelled the soft grass.  He saw the wheat field blowing in the wind, and he saw his older brothers racing their horses home from the pastures after a long day's work.  He heard his mother working with his sisters in the kitchen, preparing dinner, and then he began to cry.

Faquire lifted his hands and covered his ears, trying in vain to block out the music and to hold back the tears.  He didn't want to think of home.  It was too painful!  The love of his family and the joy of Komislava were beautiful, wonderful, but they broke through the defenses of anger that Faquire had built around his heart.  He didn't want to think of them.  He wanted to hold onto his anger, even though he knew that it was wrong.  At least it blocked the pain.

Djaisiuk continued playing, and more and more memories of Komislava came vividly into Faquire's mind.  He heard the birds singing in the early morning.  He smelt the morning meal being prepared.  He could taste the hot, fresh bread that his mother made.  Faquire slowly slid his hands down from his ears to cover his face and sat still on his cot, weeping.  And still the song continued.  Faquire felt his youngest sister in his arms as he greeted her after being away at the IC School for a long time.  He saw himself and his next older brother running up and down the steps of his family's house.  He heard the lovely music of his father's mandolin.  He felt his mother's soft kiss as she bid him goodnight.  He heard the nightingales singing outside his bedroom window.

Slowly the song ended.  Faquire no longer tried to suppress his tears.  The pain was still great, but his anger had been completely washed away, at least for now.  It might return in time, but for now Faquire abandoned himself entirely to the thoughts and memories of home that the song had stirred up within him.

Djaisiuk sat quietly at his piano for a short time after the song was finished.  His own face registered no emotion.  Finally, without looking at Faquire, he got up silently and returned to his computers to work.


* * * * * * *
Wysire had tried to visit Faquire that evening, but had been prevented from doing so.  He had gone to Djaisiuk's workroom as soon as he had finished his own work, hoping then to find them both still awake, but was blocked by the guard from entering the room.  Wysire said that he had come to visit Faquire, Djaisiuk's "roommate."  The guard said simply that no one was permitted to enter without prior permission from Kandryl.  Wysire said that he had entered twice before without hindrance.  The guard replied that if it were so then he must then have had prior permission from Kandryl to do so.  Wysire admitted that he had and said that he did not think that Kandryl would mind him entering again.  The guard simply reiterated that no one was permitted to enter without prior permission from Kandryl.

Wysire had given it up at last and had gone to speak with Kandryl.  The latter was very busy and not at all inclined to grant yet another request from the Komislavian counselor.  He said that Wysire could not "bother" Djaisiuk, as he put it; he said that if Djaisiuk were awake, then he would be working, and Wysire's presence, speaking with Faquire, would be a distraction; and if Djaisiuk were asleep, then their voices might very easily awaken him, and Djaisiuk needed his sleep.  Kandryl admitted that he had allowed both Eriane and Wysire to go to Djaisiuk's room only the night before, even knowing that Djaisiuk was then asleep, but thinking over it now he was inclined to think that it had been a mistake, he said.  Yes, the boys had all been given permission to visit Djaisiuk once, even though it was then rather late at night, but that had been a single incident.  It would probably not be repeated for some time, if, indeed, ever again.  No, Wysire could not go to them tonight.

Wysire had at last left, discouraged, to join the other boys for dinner.

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 27 - A Proposition

Kandryl had been watching the whole of the interview from his own quarters.  True, he had missed a small part of it when he had left with Djaisiuk, but only a small part.  He had consigned Djaisiuk to a guard with orders for the guard to see Djaisiuk safely back to his own room, and had then gone himself back to his own quarters and watched the remainder of the proceedings in the holding cell.  So it was that by the time Eriane and Wysire arrived, he had been able to give the matter about which they had come some thought.

The request was formally and delicately made with all of the necessary medical and psychological aspects brought to attention.  Eriane assured Kandryl that the physical well-being of a Komislavian was very much influenced by their emotional well-being.  Wysire explained that after such a trying incident it would be wise to place Faquire with friends until what time as he had fully recovered emotionally.

Kandryl answered that Faquire was now and always had been welcome to join the rest of them if he chose.  He, Creole, and Christopher had each been given the opportunity to serve alongside their companions when they had first landed.  They had refused.  Kandryl had assured them from the beginning, however, that they could withdraw that refusal at any time.  If Faquire was willing to work, he would, of course, be released immediately.

Eriane looked uncomfortable at this, but Wysire looked at Kandryl strangely.

"You know what he thinks of that," said Wysire.

Kandryl raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"You've heard our whole conversation," continued Wysire.  "You told Jaeger some time ago that there was nowhere in this facility that we could go where our words would not be heard.  I know that you heard us tonight."

Kandryl smiled.  "I admit it," he said.  "I did hear your conversation.  Very well then; we are now on the same footing.  But tell me this: if your friend refuses to work, why ought I to allow him any privileges?"

"Because you don't want him to die," replied Wysire without hesitation.

"It'd only be temporary," assured Eriane.

"Why should it be?" asked Kandryl.  "If he is returned in time to the position in which he is now, do you think it unlikely that he will again fall to this level?  And if he does, will you then ask for further liberties for him?  And what of the other two?"  He shook his head.  "No, it is not so simple.  I know that if I grant this one request, more will follow.  If your friend refuses to join us, he will eventually die.  We will not kill him outright, of course, but neither will we grant to him special privileges above any other prisoner in his situation.  You say that I don't want him to die, and you are correct.  But there are limits to what I will do to ensure his continued existence."

"Let him stay with me," said Wysire.  "Or let me go to him regularly for a few days.  He is in a situation unlike any he has ever experienced.  If he can work through this, I have every hope that he will be able to survive, even in this same situation, for a very long time.  If you keep him as he is, cut off from all of us and being treated the way that he is, he may well lose his mind in a matter of weeks."

Kandryl looked hard at Wysire, and a half smile just showed itself.  "Do you think that 'in time' you would be able to convince him to join you completely?  To work with us?"

Wysire shook his head.  "I wouldn't want to do so," he said.  "At least not in the way that you mean.  He doesn't want to serve you, and I wouldn't want to try to change his mind on that.  I am not skilled in the art of manipulation, and I have no desire ever to be so."

"Could you do it, if you wished?" asked Kandryl, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Wysire's eyes hardened.  "I would not wish to do so," he said.  "The question is impossible and therefore irrelevant."

"Your question concerning permission for him to stay with you is also impossible, seeing that he has said that he would stay only with your compatriot Djaisiuk," countered Kandryl.  "Or have you forgotten?"

"I have not," replied Wysire after a slight pause, his voice softer now.

Kandryl waited, but Wysire did not continue.

"Have you nothing more to say?" asked Kandryl at last.

"We have made our request," answered Wysire firmly, "and you have made your decision.  I am only waiting to hear what it is."

Kandryl continued to smile.  "Yes," he nodded.  "I have made my decision.  But it is not what you think.  I have decided that Djaisiuk should be the one to decide what ought to be done.  After all, he is the one who will be inconvenienced should your friend be relocated to his quarters.  I will abide by his choice."

Wysire and Eriane exchanged glances.

"Considering the fact that Djaisiuk is doubtless asleep already," began Eriane hesitantly, "would it be possible to make an exception and have Faquire removed to a more, shall we say, neutral setting until morning?"

"No," answered Kandryl, with a shake of the head.  "Nothing shall be done concerning the matter until Djaisiuk himself has stated an opinion.  You may wait until morning . . . ."  He paused before continuing.  "Or, if you request it, I can send for him now."

Again, Wysire and Eriane exchanged glances.

"You know very well that he wouldn't like to be disturbed," said Wysire.  "He was up later than his normal hour for sleep tonight, and he is doubtless tired."

"Then we will simply leave things as they stand until morning," said Kandryl.  "Of course, Djaisiuk will have his work to do in the morning, so it may be that we will be unable to address this again until tomorrow evening.  You may both return then, if you like, and, if you do so early enough, Djaisiuk will not have retired yet."

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Wysire.  "This is intentional psychological torment.  We've done all that you've asked of us; why are you doing this?  It's not Faquire whom you're trying to harm now; it's the two of us and Djaisiuk.  Why?"

Kandryl's smile faded and his face grew firm.  He sat forward in his chair and met Wysire's gaze.  "You've lived a life of comfort until now," he said.  "Doubtless you've never been faced with a decision where either way that you choose you will hurt someone.  You don't want this responsibility now, and you're angry with me for forcing it upon you, but you will learn that life is not all peace and prosperity.  Life is pain!  You can choose whether you will enjoy it and revel in it, or whether you will fight back and be overwhelmed by it.  Which do you prefer?"

Eriane stared at Kandryl, shocked at such blatant statements, but Wysire's face showed no signs of surprise: instead, a look of sadness and pity crept into his eyes.

"I know what you're thinking," continued Kandryl in a low voice, before Wysire could speak.  "I warn you not to make any rash decisions tonight.  It's late, as you've already observed.  I suggest that you both return to your quarters to get some rest.  Perhaps tomorrow we can continue this discussion."

Eriane lowered his eyes, not wanting to abandon Faquire to another night of this, but thinking that, given how things seemed to stand, this would be the best course.  He nodded silently and started to turn away, but stopped as Wysire spoke.

"No," said Wysire firmly.  "You give us the choice to call Djaisiuk tonight or to wait until tomorrow.  Very well then, I say call him tonight.  Let us settle this about Faquire here and now.  There will be no need to continue this discussion tomorrow, although I have some hope that we will be able to continue it at a later date."

Kandryl's eyebrows rose slightly.  Eriane's eyebrows rose considerably.  He'd never heard Wysire speak in that tone of voice.

"As you wish," said Kandryl simply.

Kandryl then pressed a button on his desk, and a guard entered.  The guard was instructed to bring Djaisiuk to the room, and then he left.  Kandryl then lent back in his chair again, closed his eyes as if thinking, and said nothing more.  Eriane looked questioningly at Wysire, but Wysire did not look at him.

It seemed a very long time, though it surely wasn't, before the guard returned with Djaisiuk.  The former then left the room, while the latter glanced lightly over the inhabitants of the room before lowering his gaze to the floor.  He did not speak.

"Djaisiuk," said Kandryl, sitting forward again.  "Your friends have a request to make of you."

Djaisiuk did not look up or answer.

Kandryl turned to Wysire.  "Here he is," he said simply.  "You may make your request."

"May we be permitted to speak alone?" asked Wysire.

"As you just stated," replied Kandryl with a smile, "there is nowhere in this facility where you can be truly alone.  But if you wish to go into another room, the one there is empty."  He indicated a door off to one side of the room.

Wysire looked at Kandryl for moment silently, then lowered his eyes.  He turned then to Djaisiuk.  He looked a little less sure of himself now, though he tried hard to hide it.

"Djaisiuk," he began, "I believe that it would be far better for Faquire if he were removed from the cell in which he is being held and placed with one of us.  Faquire has said that he would agree to it and that he would promise to cause no trouble if he would be allowed to stay with you.  Kandryl has said that the decision rests with you; he will agree to whatever you decide."

Wysire stopped, waiting, but Djaisiuk did not look at him.  He remained motionless and impassive.  Wysire began to look a little more uncomfortable.

"Djaisiuk, will you at least answer me?" he asked.

"Wysire, may I?" asked Eriane.  Receiving permission, Eriane looked at Djaisiuk.  "Djaisiuk, will you consent to Faquire's staying with you for at least a short period of time?  A few days, perhaps?"

For a moment, there was silence, then Djaisiuk said simply, "Yes."

"There you have it," said Eriane, turning to Kandryl.  "Can Faquire be moved immediately?  And may Djaisiuk go back to bed, as I'm sure he wishes?"

"Why not let him make that request?" asked Kandryl.  Without waiting for a reply, however, he leaned forward and again pressed a button summoning a guard.  "You may go, Djaisiuk," he said.  "That is all.  You two may also go.  Your task here is finished.  Your friend will sleep in Djaisiuk's workroom tonight."


* * * * * * *
Djaisiuk did return to bed, but Eriane and Wysire asked to be allowed to accompany the guards in the relocation of Faquire.  To this, Kandryl did agree.

Five guards were summoned, and they were all given minute instructions.  Three proceeded immediately to the holding cells, while the other two were sent to prepare a sleeping place in Djaisiuk's workroom.  Eriane and Wysire followed the first three.  On the way to the cells, Eriane and Wysire held a quiet conversation.

"Wysire," began Eriane.  "What was all of that between you and Kandryl?  I couldn't understand half of what you two were saying to one another.  I understood the words, but I know that there was more meaning behind them than I was catching."

Wysire did not answer immediately, but seemed to be thinking.

"Kandryl wants us to serve his people indefinitely," answered Wysire slowly.  "He wants us to do this without question or hesitation.  This conversation just now was a covert attempt at brainwashing and manipulation.  When he saw that I understood exactly what he was doing, he spoke bluntly, explaining why it would be better to go over to his side than to remain where I was.  That was the part about life being pain and either fighting it or submitting to it."

"I didn't understand that at all," said Eriane.  "If he truly believes that life is pain, then why does he live?"

Wysire smiled ruefully.  "Vukasovians can taste pain," he said.  "They find it delicious.  Physical, mental, or spiritual makes no difference to them.  They enjoy watching the infliction of suffering on others, and they can even take pleasure in pain that they suffer themselves.  Yes, Satan truly has a great stronghold here among these people."

Eriane shuddered.  "I know that they're sadists," he said.  "I've seen that quite plainly in Drayl, my supervisor.  But the way that you describe it is horrific.  Drayl has said that I'll become like them in time, but I know that I won't.  Does Kandryl hope that we will?"

"Kandryl wants us to become numb to pain.  He doesn't really care whether we come to enjoy it as they do; that will make no difference as far as our work is concerned.  But if we continually react to pain, whether our own or that of our friends and others, in the way that we, as Komislavians and Christians, are expected to react, then eventually we will cease to be of any use to the Vukasovians.  This constant exposure, for simply by being among them we must be exposed to it, will wear on us until eventually it breaks or destroys us.  He wants us to become slowly hardened to it, until we reach the point where we are no longer affected by it.  Then we will be truly valuable to them."

Eriane was quiet for time, watching the floor, lost in thought.

"What are we supposed to do?" he asked quietly.

"Pray," answered Wysire.  "That's the best thing that we can do now.  That, and don't ever become hardened to it."  He looked up at Eriane and gave a small smile.  "And we can do what we can for the others when we can.  We can try to help them as we are trying to help Faquire.  But prayer will accomplish the most."

Eriane looked hard at Wysire.  "Wysire, how do you bear it?" he asked quietly.

Wysire again smiled sadly and lowered his eyes.  "It isn't easy," he said.  "But unlike the Vukasovians, I know that life isn't pain.  It may seem that way now, but I have the Hope within me that gives me the strength to continue.  And they can never take that away."

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 26 - Faquire

Once they had left the eating room, Djaisiuk fell back and allowed the Vukasovian to lead the way.  Eriane and Wysire walked quietly beside Djaisiuk.  Eriane once ventured to ask Djaisiuk softly whether he would mind telling them what this was all about, but Djaisiuk only made a short motion with his hand, indicating that Eriane should wait.  So they walked in silence down several more halls.  After only a few minutes, they saw Kandryl walking down the hall toward them.  They stopped and waited for him to approach.

Kandryl dismissed the escort and turned to the three boys.

“I understand that you have been to visit your three companions,” he said to Wysire.

Wysire blinked.  “Yes, I have,” he said simply.

“I understand further that you have deep concerns for the well-being of the youngest one; also that you are unsure as to whether even you and your medical friend here, working together, would be able to bring him back to health.”

Wysire frowned, wondering where this was headed.

“We would be very grateful for an opportunity to try,” said Eriane.

“You may be given that opportunity,” said Kandryl.  “I have summoned your compatriot Djaisiuk now, as a test of his great intelligence, to attempt to remedy his companion’s condition himself.  I allow him to bring the two of you along as his assistants, if he pleases.”

Eriane and Wysire glanced at Djaisiuk, but the latter remained staring resolutely at the floor.

“If he fails, then I will allow you to try yourself,” continued Kandryl.  “I merely want you both to understand that at this time you are here as assistants.  I am asking Djaisiuk to heal his compatriot; not you.  You may of course help if he wishes.”

With that, Kandryl turned and led them down several more halls.  Wysire recognized the way, but Eriane had never been to the holding cells before.  He looked around himself curiously as they went.  Djaisiuk had, of course, never been here before either, but he maintained his watch on the floors, taking no apparent interest in his surroundings.

When they at last reached the desired section, they were met by a doctor carrying a medical scanner.  This man exchanged a few brief words with Kandryl then joined the group as they walked on.  A few short passages further, and Kandryl stopped before a door at which a guard was stationed.  The guard saluted and stepped back, and Kandryl opened the door and stepped back himself, motioning Djaisiuk to enter.

Djaisiuk entered the room without hesitation, followed closely by Wysire, Eriane, Kandryl, and the doctor.  Faquire was lying on the small bed on his back, his head at the end nearest the door.  He eyes were open, fixed immovably on the ceiling, and his breathing was so light as to be quite inaudible, although one could see the very slight rise and fall of his chest from time to time.  Wysire, Eriane, Kandryl, and the doctor stood by the door and watched as Djaisiuk walked straight to the bed on which Faquire was lying.  Faquire had not moved as the group entered and made no reaction now as Djaisiuk bent over him.

Djaisiuk lowered himself onto one knee next to the bed and turned Faquire’s face slightly towards himself.  He then used his right thumb to push back Faquire’s left eyelid to examine the eye.  Letting go, he turned Faquire’s head back to its original position and, laying his hand across Faquire’s face, pressed his thumb and middle finger to Faquire’s temples.  Faquire did not react to any of this.

“Ephinamin,” said Djaisiuk in hoarse voice, not raising his eyes.

“Ephinamin?” the doctor repeated.  “Yes, we’ve tried that.  It did increase the heartbeat and brain waves for a short time, but he did not react otherwise.”

Djaisiuk turned to look at the doctor but did not speak.

“I think that he wants you to try it again,” Eriane offered quietly.

The doctor sighed and turned to Kandryl.  “Sir, we’ve tried it already,” he said, “and it didn’t–”

“Try it again,” interrupted Kandryl firmly.

The doctor shook his head slightly and shrugged as he opened his communicator.  “Is there any particular dose you’d like?” he asked Djaisiuk.

“Five,” came the immediate reply.

“Five?!” exclaimed the doctor.  “You’re not going to get any reaction with five.  We tried fifty, and it barely lasted above two minutes.”

“He said five,” said Kandryl authoritatively.

The doctor sighed and spoke into his communicator, then turned again to Djaisiuk.  “Anything else?”

“Melactosin,” replied Djaisiuk, turning back to Faquire and taking hold of the latter's left wrist.

The doctor arched an eyebrow.  “And what exactly do you expect that to do?  It won’t help, I can assure you.”

Djaisiuk did not answer.  Kandryl looked at the doctor, and the doctor understood.  He lifted his communicator again.

“I suppose you’d like a dose two?” he asked Djaisiuk, half-sarcastically.

“Twelve,” said Djaisiuk, not looking up.

“Sir, he’s just making up numbers now,” said the doctor, lowering his communicator and turning again to Kandryl.  “He obviously doesn’t know what he’s talking about.  There isn’t a dose twelve of melactosin.”

“Then make one,” Kandryl replied.

The doctor looked a little taken aback and opened his mouth again to argue but stopped, seeing Kandryl’s look.  He obediently spoke again into his communicator, ordering the necessary procedures to create the unusual dose of the required drug.

Djaisiuk examined Faquire's lower arm with his fingers, then stood up and stepped back from the bed.  He crossed his arms and stood still, staring vaguely at the floor, his face perfectly expressionless.

“Is that how he looks when he’s thinking?” asked the doctor.

“I imagine that that’s how he looks when he’s waiting for his requested materials to arrive,” Kandryl replied with a slightly sarcastic edge to his voice.

The doctor frowned, but did not dare to reply in kind.  “They’ll be here soon,” was all that he said.

And soon a young medic appeared with a syringe and a small flat cylinder which he handed to the doctor.  He then quietly withdrew.  The doctor offered them wordlessly to Djaisiuk, but Djaisiuk did not take them.  He instead motioned with his head towards Eriane, indicating that they should be given to him.  Eriane wordlessly accepted and administered the drugs.  Djaisiuk then stepped up to the bed, lowered himself again on one knee, and gently closed Faquire’s eyes.

Glancing up at the doctor, Djaisiuk said simply, “Go.”

The doctor looked positively offended.  “Are you ordering me to leave?” he demanded.

Djaisiuk ignored him, however, and turned back to Faquire.  The doctor gaped at him.

“He said leave,” said Kandryl.  “Leave.”

The doctor looked at him half-incredulously.  “Will you still want this?” he asked at last, holding out the medical scanner.

“Give it to him,” said Kandryl, indicating Eriane.

The doctor obeyed grudgingly, and sulkily left.  Kandryl smiled to himself.  Djaisiuk was a Komislavian, it was true, but he seemed to be acting more and more like a Vukasovian every day.  Each action tonight had raised him in Kandryl’s esteem.  Kandryl began to feel surer of the success of this experiment than he had up to this point.  It seemed almost as though Djaisiuk enjoyed being with the Vukasovians, as though this was who he truly was.  If only Kandryl could finally trust Djaisiuk!  If he would but join them in truth, nothing would be impossible.

For a moment they all waited in silence.  Very soon Faquire’s breathing grew a little deeper.  Without a word, Djaisiuk took hold of the front of Faquire’s shirt and pulled him into a sitting position.  Faquire’s eyes opened again, but they still seemed to see nothing.  Djaisiuk was undaunted.  He stood, still holding Faquire by the shirt with his right hand, and took hold of Faquire’s legs with his left and pulled them over the side of the bed.  He then again took hold of the front of Faquire’s shirt with both hands this time, braced his right knee against Faquire's left, and, with a little effort, considering the slight size and definite weight difference between the two, pulled Faquire up to a standing position.

Faquire now looked Djaisiuk straight in the eye, though his expression had not changed.  No one could say whether he truly saw anything.

Eriane, Wysire, and Kandryl watched this proceeding with interest.  Djaisiuk did not utter a word.  He had stepped back a little, though he still held Faquire firmly by the shirt.  He simply stood, perfectly impassive, looking now slightly up at Faquire who, although four years Djaisiuk’s junior, was still at least two inches taller than was Djaisiuk.

Faquire looked at Djaisiuk for a moment, then slowly his head began to bow forward and his eyes lowered, his body looking as though it would fold in on itself.  Djaisiuk still held him, but it looked as though Faquire would certainly collapse if Djaisiuk were to let go.  Eriane started to move forward, thinking to catch Faquire should he fall, but was stopped at a quick glance from Djaisiuk.

Djaisiuk took Faquire’s chin in his left hand, still holding tightly onto his shirt with his right, and lifted Faquire's face again.  He then took hold of the shirt with his left hand, raised his right hand, and suddenly slapped Faquire hard across the face.

Wysire gasped and Eriane gave a short exclamation, quickly suppressed.  Neither could believe what they had just seen.  Eriane was quite beside himself.  They each restrained themself however with difficulty and continued to watch Djaisiuk.  Even Kandryl seemed surprised at this last act, though he had learned to have no expectations when it came to Djaisiuk.

Faquire’s face at last seemed to show a very little bit of life: he looked at least slightly surprised.  Djaisiuk turned Faquire’s face toward himself again, and Faquire looked at him, his mouth now open slightly.  Some of the lethargy seemed to have left Faquire’s body.  He still stood uncertainly, but it seemed to be somewhat more in his own strength now.

Djaisiuk gently pushed Faquire back and lowered him down onto the cot again.  Faquire’s head tilted upwards as he sat down so that he continued to look at Djaisiuk.  Djaisiuk carefully let go, and Faquire sat still, still looking Djaisiuk in the eye.  Djaisiuk crossed his arms again, still returning Faquire’s gaze, and waited.

For a short time the two stayed thus in silence.  At last, Faquire closed his mouth and swallowed slowly.

“Djaisiuk?” he asked in a hoarse, quiet voice.

Immediately Djaisiuk turned away.  Walking back toward the door, he motioned Eriane to go to Faquire.  Eriane needed no more encouragement.  He jumped forward quickly and dropped to one knee beside Faquire, taking one of Faquire’s hands in his own.

“Faquire,” he said eagerly.  “Faquire, are you alright?”

Faquire did not look at him, however, but continued to stare at Djaisiuk.

“Faquire!” called Eriane.  “Faquire, it’s Eriane!  Can’t you hear me?”  He looked at Wysire helplessly.

“Faquire, we’re here,” said Wysire, stepping forward.  “It’s alright; you’re safe.”

Faquire still gave no indication that he heard.  He continued to look at Djaisiuk.  Hearing his breathing begin to grow lighter again, Eriane turned also to Djaisiuk.

“Djaisiuk, he won’t answer me,” said Eriane.  “I don’t know whether he even hears me.”

Without a word, Djaisiuk turned and walked back to the cot.  Faquire’s eyes followed him until he stood before him.  Djaisiuk then took Faquire’s chin firmly in his hand and tilted it up slightly to face himself.  Eriane and Wysire both tensed, afraid lest Djaisiuk might strike Faquire again, but Djaisiuk did not hit him.  He merely held Faquire’s face there for a moment, then turned it towards Eriane and let go.  Faquire blinked.

Taking his cue from Djaisiuk, Eriane raised a hand and pressed it gently to Faquire’s cheek.  “Can you hear me, Faquire?” he asked.

Faquire’s lips moved slowly.  At last, he spoke.  “Yes,” he said softly.

Eriane smiled in joy and relief.  “Oh, Faquire!” he exclaimed.  “I’m so glad.  And can you see me too?”

Faquire nodded slowly.  “Yes,” he said.

Turning Faquire’s face gently towards Wysire, Eriane asked, “And can you see Wysire too?”

Faquire was quiet for a moment, and then said quietly, “Wysire.”

“Yes, Faquire,” said Wysire softly.  “It’s me.”

Faquire blinked again a few times and looked slowly around the room, moving his head of his own accord now.  He looked slightly confused.

“Where am I?” he asked.

“I’m done,” said Djaisiuk abruptly, turning to Kandryl, and then indicated the doorway, implying that he wished to leave now.

Kandryl raised his eyebrows and looked back at the other three.  They sat or stood still, not seeming to know what to say.  Eriane and Wysire both looked confused but said nothing.  They simply watched and waited.  Kandryl smiled, impressed, as usual, with Djaisiuk, particularly with how successful he’d been in so short a time when the Vukasovian doctors had failed so miserably and even the Komislavian “counselor” had seemed hopeless.  Indeed, what Djaisiuk had done that had proved so successful still eluded him.  The doctors had tried all sorts of stimuli, both mental and physical, but nothing had worked.  Djaisiuk was as impossible to understand as he was to predict, Kandryl decided.

"Have you healed him completely?" asked Kandryl.  "Or do you want these two to remain with him?"

"No; yes," said Djaisiuk, not looking at Kandryl.

Kandryl looked at him, tilting his head to one side, wondering whether he ought to pursue this.  He understood perfectly what Djaisiuk meant, but it might be pleasant to torment him in forcing him to speak more to explain himself.  He quickly decided against this however, due to the presence of Eriane and Wysire.  He said nothing, therefore, and simply stepped back, allowing Djaisiuk access to the door of the cell.  Djaisiuk walked out, but Kandryl did not immediately follow.  He glanced back at the boys still in the room.

"Doctor," he said.

Eriane looked up at him.

"Is there a dose twelve of melactosin on Komislava?" Kandryl asked.

Eriane thought for a moment, then shook his head.  "I've never heard of one," he answered.

Kandryl smiled to himself, nodded, then turned and walked out of the room, leaving Eriane and Wysire alone with Faquire.

Eriane and Wysire looked at one another, neither seeming to be sure of what to do next.  They neither of them wanted to make a mistake.  Fortunately, Faquire spoke first.

“I’m hungry,” said Faquire, still speaking in a slow, weak voice.

“I’ll see what I can do about that right now,” said Eriane.  He jumped up and went to the door.  There he exchanged a few words with the guard while Wysire continued to talk to Faquire.

“Do you feel alright otherwise?” asked Wysire.

“I . . . I think so,” answered Faquire, speaking very slowly and haltingly.  “It’s hard to tell . . . .  I haven’t been eating properly, have I?”

“No, you probably haven’t,” said Wysire, smiling broadly at such a long sentence from him.  “We’ll see what we can do about that, but you mustn’t worry about your food now.  It may not be up to your normal standards, but it’ll have to do for a while yet.”

Eriane returned.  “The guard is going to fetch you something to eat now,” he said.  “It shouldn’t take more than a minute or two.  In the meantime, would you mind if I performed a quick medical scan, Faquire?  It would help my mind to rest easier.”

Faquire looked at him for a moment as if trying to process what he had said.  At last he nodded.  “That’s fine,” he said.

Eriane held the scanner about a foot from Faquire and moved it slowly up and down in front of him, watching the readout constantly.  Faquire raised his right hand and gently massaged his throat with a puzzled expression.

“It hurts to talk,” he said.  “I don’t know why.”

“It’s probably because you haven’t spoken in so long,” said Eriane, intent on the scanner and not looking at him.  “Your muscles will take time to loosen to where it doesn’t hurt.  It’ll get better as you speak more, though it may get a little worse before it begins to improve.”

“Is this what Djaisiuk feels when he speaks?” asked Faquire.

“Probably,” replied Eriane.  He finished the scan and powered down the scanner.  “You are definitely weak and slightly malnourished, but nothing dangerous,” he said.  “If you’re careful and eat well, you should be fine in a few days.”

He had scarcely finished speaking when the guard returned with a medic.  The medic carried a food tray which he set down carefully on the cot, looking cautiously at Faquire the whole time.  He looked almost as though he were afraid of him.  Once he had delivered the tray, the medic and guard both withdrew.

Eriane helped Faquire to eat at first, and then Faquire fed himself after he had eaten a little.  The food seemed to increase both his strength and awareness.  He again looked around the room as he finished.

“Where are we?” he asked.

Eriane swallowed.  “We’re prisoners,” he said.  “We’re on a Vukasovian base.  We’re standing now in one of their holding cells where you’ve--”

Faquire held up a hand to stop him, and looked down, thinking.  “Wait,” he said finally, his voice a little firmer than it had been up to now.  “Yes, I remember. . . .  Creole refused to serve them, and so did Christopher.  I followed Creole . . . and the Vukasovians locked me in here.  I remember.”  He looked up again and his eyes seemed a little brighter.  “That was their leader, wasn’t it?  The man with Djaisiuk.  He is the one in charge.”

“Yes,” said Eriane.  “His name is Kandryl.”

“Kandryl,” Faquire repeated quietly.  “Yes, I remember.”  Faquire was quiet for a moment, seeming to be thinking hard.  Finally he shook his head.  “There seem to be gaps in my memory.  I know that I was brought here, but I don’t know what happened next.  What has happened with everyone else?  How long have I been here?  How long have you been here?  You said that you are prisoners too?”

"I . . . I didn't mean that kind of prisoner," replied Eriane hesitantly.  "I just meant that we're all being kept here on Vukosava and not allowed to leave."

“You’ve been in here for just over two weeks,” said Wysire, sitting down on the cot beside Faquire and changing the subject before Eriane went any deeper.  “We just came with Djaisiuk tonight, but none of us has been here to see you at all before now, as far as I know, except for me, earlier today.”

“I saw you once,” said Eriane quietly.  “Do you remember that?”

Faquire thought hard.  “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.  “I remember several of you coming, but I don’t think that it was real.  There was a point where I couldn’t separate dreaming from waking.  I remember you coming, Wysire, and talking to me.  But I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes, that was today,” nodded Wysire.

“No, it was a few days ago,” said Faquire.  “You had a needle.  A syringe, rather.  I don’t know what was in it.”

Wysire looked appalled.  “That wasn’t me!” he assured Faquire.  “That had to have been a dream.”

Faquire nodded slowly.  “Yes, I thought that it was.  I remember nothing but dreams for a long time.  I don't know how long it was.  It could have been days or weeks.  What happened to me?”

“I don’t know,” said Eriane, concern evident in his voice.  “But you’ll need to watch and be careful so that it doesn’t happen again.”

“Djaisiuk seems to think that you’ll be alright now,” said Wysire.  “I’m sure that he wouldn’t have left otherwise.”

“I remember . . ." began Faquire.  “I think . . . .  Did he hit me?  Did Djaisiuk hit me?”

Eriane and Wysire exchanged glances, then Eriane nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “He did hit you.”

“I felt it,” said Faquire.  “I heard the noise, and it hurt.  I thought that he had hit me.  I couldn’t believe that he would do that, but somehow I knew then that it wasn’t a dream.  I felt pain in the dreams, but never from him.”  He raised his hand and rubbed his left cheek.  “I wouldn’t ever dream such a thing as Djaisiuk hitting me.”

“Do you want something for that?” asked Eriane.  “Does it hurt?”

Faquire looked at him and tried to smile.  “No,” he said.  “It’s strange, I know, but I don’t mind.  I don’t think that Djaisiuk has ever struck anyone in his life.  I suppose that that makes me special.”  He smiled again and gave a quiet sort of exhalation that remotely resembled a laugh.

Eriane and Wysire both smiled brightly, not so much at the words as at the life that seemed to be coming back into Faquire.

“Yes, indeed,” agreed Wysire.  “I’d be almost willing to bet that he’s never hit anyone else.  I’m not sure that he ever would again either.”

“Where are the others?” asked Faquire.  “How are they?”

“Most of them are well,” said Eriane.  “Jaeger, Jade, Leil, Detrin, Cycil, and Sandy will be heading towards bed now, I’d think.  I imagine that Djaisiuk is too, come to think of it.  He stayed up past his usual hour of retiring to come and eat dinner with us.  Creole and Christopher are both prisoners like yourself, as you remember, but Wysire says that they are doing fairly well.  He was able to visit both of them today.”

Faquire's face fell a little.  He was silent for a moment, then asked, "Then you are all working for them?"

Eriane licked his lips, unsure of what to say.  Wysire reached forward and laid a hand on Faquire's arm.

"If we weren't, then you would have died, Faquire," he said.  "Djaisiuk brought you back, but I doubt that anyone else would have been able to do so.  Eriane, would you have known to do what he did?"

"No," Eriane shook his head.  "Now that I've seen it, I can understand what he was doing, but I wouldn't have known to do it myself.  I certainly wouldn't have hit you, Faquire."

Wysire smiled.  "I don't think that any of us would have done that.  But somehow it worked."

Faquire was still quiet, and Wysire looked at him with concern.

"You say that there are gaps in your memory," he asked.  "How much do you remember?"

Faquire frowned, not looking at them.  "Not much," he said.  "It's still very unclear."  He paused again.

"Can you tell us what you do remember?" asked Wysire encouragingly.

“It’s so strange,” said Faquire slowly.  “Apart from the dreams, I don’t remember anything but the first day on the ship.  We realized that we were going to be split.  You all went with them, and we three did not.  Three of the soldiers brought us out of the ship.  They were rough, I remember, and had very strong grips.”  He unconsciously rubbed his upper right arm at the memory.  “We saw Djaisiuk, when we got off of the ship, and realized that he was going to work for them too.  I remember that.  Then they separated us.  I didn’t know if I’d ever see Creole or Christopher or any of you again.  It was very frightening.  I remember that they brought me in here and left me for a long time; it may have been a day or two.  They never turn out the light in here, so I can’t tell whether it’s day or night, except judging by whether or not I’m tired and how often they bring me food.  Horrid stuff, that!  It's nothing like Komislavian food.  I was afraid that I'd die from that long before they decided to kill me.  Kandryl came a few times to ask if I’d changed my mind about working for them, but I said that I wouldn’t.  I think that I was rude to him.  He finally stopped coming.”

Faquire stopped and took a deep breath.  “I think that it’s coming back to me, somewhat,” he said, his voice growing a little clearer and stronger the more that he spoke.  “I remember more now than I did.  I remember that after Kandryl stopped coming, medics would come and draw samples from me and run tests on me.  I fought back against them at first.  One wanted to draw a blood sample, and I waited until he was near me, then I struck him.  I knocked the needle out of his hand and stepped on it.  The guards grabbed hold of me and held me, but I continued to struggle, so much so that they couldn’t take the sample.  They were very upset, and I thought that it was funny.  I still do.  I didn’t let them know that I thought that, but I did laugh a little after they left.  They try so hard to be superior and condescending to us, but I could make them lose their tempers.  They couldn’t control me.  They came again later though.  This time the guards held me and they injected something into my neck.  It made me dizzy, but I could still see and feel everything that was happening, though it all swam before my eyes terribly.  They took the samples then and ran a few tests, I think.  They left me, but the drug didn’t wear off for an hour or more.  I couldn’t stand or even sit.  The next day, I still fought, so they used the drug on me again.  I didn’t care.  I still tried to fight them, but I couldn’t then.  I think that I must have put up enough of a fight that day that they had to give me too much of the drug.  That was when I first started dreaming and not being able to tell if I was awake.  I think that I was awake some of the time, but I kept seeing things and feeling things that weren’t real.  It was so strange and terrible!  I didn’t know what to do.  They left me alone, thankfully, for most of the next day, and I felt that I had recovered.  They took me out of here that day, I think.  That was the day that I saw you, Eriane; I remember that now.  They stabbed my foot terribly with that awful thing.  It hurt badly, but it was so much better than that drug that they gave me.  It was so nice to see you that day.  You told me about the others, didn’t you?  You said that they were doing well, I think.  I remember you mentioning Creole and Christopher, didn’t you?”

“I did, I think,” replied Eriane.  “But I believe that it was only to say that we had had no word of them or of you.”

Faquire nodded.  “Yes, that was probably it.”  He was quiet for a moment, looking down again as if in thought.  His voice was much clearer now, and he seemed almost back to his normal self, though he still seemed very tired.  “After that, things went back to how they had been at first,” he continued after a pause.  “I still liked to fight them, not because I thought that it would do any good; I just didn’t want them to think that I had stopped caring or that they could scare me.  Then they gave me some other drug.  It was worse than the one that would make me dizzy.  I could still see, but I couldn’t move.  I wasn't numb, and I could still feel my arms and legs and all, but I couldn't move.  It did something to my mind too.  It was like I was falling asleep, but like I never quite did.  It’s hard to explain.  I felt that I was awake, but that nothing around me was real.  I was never awake, but I was never asleep.  I saw things and felt things, but none of them were real.  But they weren’t dreams either.  I tried to fight back, to get back to what was real, but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t think either.  I fought it for as long as I could, but I finally just stopped trying.  It was terrible!  I wanted to fight, but I couldn’t.  For days I couldn’t.  So I stopped trying.  I don’t know how long it lasted.   I thought that I was dying, but I was afraid that I wasn’t.  I was afraid that it might continue forever.  I wanted it to end!  Then you came with Djaisiuk.  But I didn’t know whether he was real either.  He had never come in any of the dreams, though it seemed like I would see him in my thoughts sometimes.  It’s so hard to explain in words!  When he helped me to stand up, I still didn’t know if it was real.  I had never stood up in the dreams, because I couldn’t.  I had tried, but I couldn’t.  It felt more real; like I was in a tunnel where I could see a little bit of the real world, but the false world was still all around me.  But I wasn’t entirely sure even then of whether the little bit that was clearer was actually real.  I wanted it to be real, but I didn’t think that it was.  I didn’t know.  I only knew that somehow it was different from the dreams.  I wanted to get to it, to the part that was real, but I was afraid to try.  I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to get to it.  Then Djaisiuk hit me.  I knew that that was real.  It couldn’t have been a dream.  Somehow I knew that it was real, and then everything started to get clearer.  I don’t know how.  I almost wanted him to hit me again so that I’d be more sure.  But he didn’t.  He didn’t even talk to me.  That’s why I spoke to him.  I wanted to get back to real life.  I wanted him to tell me that this was real.  But he didn’t."  Faquire paused again, looking down at the floor.  "Why didn’t he?” he asked at last.

Eriane looked at Wysire, thinking him better equipped to answer the question.  Wysire had to think for a moment before he had a possible answer.

“You know that Djaisiuk doesn’t like to talk,” he said.  “Probably he knew that it would not be necessary for him to tell you that this was real.  I would think that he knew that Eriane and I could do that just as well.  So, he left.  His own speech was unnecessary.  But he did get us started.  Also, if he had spoken, you might have thought it a dream, considering the fact that he doesn’t speak much in real life.”

“And now I understand why,” said Faquire, frowning and rubbing his throat again.  “My throat hurts terribly, though I think that I’m starting to get used to it.  But as far as it having to be a dream because he doesn’t talk much, you must admit that he never hits people in real life either.”

“But he wouldn’t do that even in a dream!” laughed Eriane.

Wysire joined him in the laugh, and Faquire smiled.

“Oh, Faquire,” said Wysire.  “It’s so good to see you back to yourself somewhat.  Are you fully convinced now that this is not a dream?”

Faquire nodded, still smiling.  “Yes,” he said.  “Yes, I am sure now.  The dream-world is gone, at least for now.  I can see everything clearly again.”  He sighed, and then continued, “Though I don’t know what I’ll think tomorrow.”

“That’s a problem,” said Wysire.  “You really oughtn’t to be left alone, Faquire.  The best thing would be for you to come with us, though I doubt whether Kandryl will allow that.”

“He was willing to let us come and help him,” said Eriane to Wysire.  “Perhaps he’d be willing to let Faquire come and stay with one of us for a day or two, just till he’s well again, if we promise that nothing will happen due to it.”  He turned to Faquire.  “You’d be willing to promise that, wouldn’t you?”

Faquire's expression hardened, and he considered for a moment.  He then shook his head.  “Eriane, I won’t work for them.  I won’t do anything that might help them.  I’d rather die than go through this last week or two again, but better that a thousand times over than working for the Vukasovians.”

“You may not have to work for them,” said Wysire.  “Couldn’t you just agree not to try to run away or to cause any trouble or anything like that for a few days?  They just might let you out of here to stay with one of us.”

“The only way that they’d let me out would be if they no longer considered me a threat,” replied Faquire.

Just then, another medic and two guards entered the room.  The medic approached without speaking, scanner in hand, to examine Faquire.  Faquire pulled back and looked at him dangerously.

“I’m back to myself now,” he said threateningly.  “Come near me, and I’ll hurt you!”

The medic stopped, fully believing Faquire, and motioned for the guards.  The guards moved towards Faquire, but Eriane quickly intervened.

“Please, sir,” he said to the medic.  “I’ve just examined him.  Look here.”

Eriane held out his own scanner to the medic, who accepted it and examined the readout suspiciously.

“I still have to perform the scan myself,” he said.

“Why?” asked Eriane.  “You can see that I only just performed the scan not thirty minutes ago and that it was done on him.  There’s no need for a second scan.”

The medic bristled somewhat at being ordered about by a Komislavian.

“I will perform the scan as I was ordered, whether he wills it or not,” said the medic sharply.

The guards took hold of Faquire by the arms and drew him to his feet, as the medic stepped forward.  To the surprise of his friends, Faquire suddenly kicked the scanner out of the medic's hands, and aimed a second kick at the medic himself.  The guards jerked Faquire backwards, slamming him against the wall, as the medic jumped back, startled at actually being attacked.

“Faquire!” cried Eriane.  “Stop!”

“Faquire, they’ll kill you!” Wysire exclaimed.  “Why are you doing this?”

Faquire’s eyes were wild and did not calm as he turned to look at them.

“You truly have joined them!” he snapped.  “You would defend their actions and condemn mine already?  Get out of here, both of you, you Vukasovian proselytes!  I don’t want your help or your advice if this is the form that it takes!”

Eriane took a step back, shocked and uncertain, but Wysire stepped forward and placed his right hand against Faquire’s face, ignoring the two guards who still held Faquire firmly between them.

“You know that we only want to help you,” said Wysire softly.  “We don’t want to see you hurt.”

Faquire looked at him, breathing heavily from this recent exertion in his weakened state.  He struggled for a moment with his emotions, then spoke in a breaking voice.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whispered.  “But please go.  You will weaken my resolve if you stay.  I don’t want to give in to them, Wysire; I can’t.  Please just go.”

The medic had been speaking into a communicator, and now a second medic entered.  This one held a small syringe.

“No!” exclaimed Eriane on seeing this.  “You can’t drug him again!  You almost killed him the last time.  He’s weak; at least wait until he’s stronger.”

“We know that he’s weak,” said the one holding the syringe.  “That’s why we’re giving him only a small dose.  This won’t kill him.”

Eriane and Wysire stood by and watched helplessly as this second medic approached Faquire.  The guards each placed one of their feet on Faquire’s feet, preventing him from being able to kick again.  Faquire winced at this last proceeding, showing that the guards did not particularly care if they hurt him.  The medic stepped forward, took hold of Faquire’s head by the hair, pulled it back, and plunged the thin needle into Faquire’s neck.

The effect was almost immediate.  As the medic let go of Faquire and stepped back, the strength, so newly found, seemed again to leave Faquire.  The guards held him up, but his head fell forward and raised again only slowly, his eyes blinking as if he were only half-conscious.  The first medic stepped forward again and moved the scanner up and down, examining Faquire.  Once this was completed, the medics left, and the guards (none too gently) laid Faquire back down on his cot.  Faquire lay on his back, breathing raggedly, looking up at the ceiling.

When the three were again left alone in the room, Eriane stepped up to the cot.

“Faquire?” he said quietly.  "Are you alright?"

“You’re still here?” asked Faquire.  He was still breathing heavily, but his voice was firm.  “Yes, I’m alright.  Just a bit dizzy.”

“You’re still able to think clearly then?” asked Wysire.

“Yes, I’m able to think fine,” replied Faquire a little sharply.  “They just wanted to be able to control me physically.  I think that they prefer it when I’m fully aware of what’s happening and know that I’ve no way to combat it.”

“Faquire,” began Eriane slowly.  “We may still be able to get you out of here.”

“I won’t serve them!” snapped Faquire.  “I prefer their enmity to their amiability.”  He paused and closed his eyes, almost as if trying to catch his breath.  “If you were to spend a few days in here as a prisoner, you might change your mind about them too.”

Wysire looked deeply concerned.  “There’s something wrong with you, Faquire,” he began, but was interrupted by a sharp laugh.

“Yes, there’s something wrong with me!” exclaimed Faquire, opening his eyes again but still not looking at them.  “I’m a prisoner on Vukosava, less than one week’s journey from my homeland, with no hope of escape!  I’ve no way to tell my father, mother, brothers, or sisters that I’m alive, and I’ve really no hope that I’ll ever even see them again.”  His voice began to tremble and break as he continued, “My unborn brother may never meet me, his older sibling.  We could live the rest of our lives, only five days apart, and yet never meet!”

Faquire closed his eyes, and Eriane and Wysire looked at him with painful expressions.  Wysire opened his mouth to speak again, but Faquire continued.

“My friends are either serving those beasts who keep me here or suffering at the hands of them as I am,” he continued in a voice that was now low and full of anger.  “I’ve really no way of knowing whether they are better or worse off than I am, or even whether they’re still alive.  The only possible door of relief open to me is death!  You said that I would have died if you hadn't come; then why did you come?!  Why didn’t you let me die?  Why did you bring me back to this?”

“Faquire, can’t you see that your anger is destroying you?” asked Wysire.  “You’ll kill yourself if you continue thus.  I know that you want to end this trial, but that decision is not yours to make.  Your choice right now is not what will happen but how you will react to and handle what does happen.”

Faquire was quiet for a long moment.  “I don’t want to think about it, Wysire,” he said at last, his eyes still closed.  “I cannot forgive them.  They’re cruel, vicious, inhuman, self-centered, self-righteous cowards.”

Wysire did not reply, but stood looking down at Faquire steadily.  He knew that to this statement no reply was necessary.  If he let Faquire think about it, he would understand.  But Faquire only sighed and shook his head.

“I won’t think about it,” he said simply.  “I don’t want to think about it.”

“What if you were to stay with Djaisiuk?” asked Eriane suddenly.

Faquire turned his head to look at Eriane, but everything swam so horribly in his vision that he soon turned to look up at the ceiling again, preferring plain, unbroken whiteness to the confused jumble of shapes and colors of his visitors.

“Stay with Djaisiuk?” he repeated.

“As an alternative to staying here,” said Eriane.  “You wouldn’t have to serve them, but perhaps Djaisiuk would be willing to act as ‘warden’ for you, at least until you’re well again.”

Faquire lay quiet for a moment, thinking.

“If Djaisiuk was willing,” he said slowly, “I might consent.  Not that I’d serve them,” he added quickly, “but I wouldn’t mind a chance to talk with Djaisiuk.  I’d still like to know why he serves them.”

“We all would,” murmured Eriane.

“Faquire, I’d like to be able to talk with you more,” began Wysire.

Faquire shook his head.  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.  “If we were back on the ship, I’d probably come and seek you, but we’re not there!  We’re here, on the planet of our enemies.  Everything is different.  I’m a prisoner, and you are a Komislavian working for the Vukasovians.  I don’t want to discuss any of the things that I know you think ought to be addressed.  I know what’s wrong with me, and I’m content to leave it so until situations change.”

Wysire frowned, ever so slightly, and looked on silently as if weighing whether he ought to push the subject now.  Finally, he sighed quietly and lowered his eyes.

“We’ll go and talk to Kandryl now about the possibility of you staying with Djaisiuk,” said Eriane to Faquire, guessing that Wysire had decided not to pursue the subject.  “I can’t bear the thought of you having to stay here like this, suffering such inhuman actions as they take!”

Faquire gave a short laugh.  “I had become very used to this treatment, really.  I’m only surprised that they didn’t have the syringe ready and waiting when the first group entered.  They must have thought that I’d be too weak or too frightened to fight back this time.  I suppose I should be offended.”  He smiled.

“Faquire, please don’t fight back again tonight,” Eriane pleaded.  “You’re still not well; you need to conserve your strength.  They may go too far and do you permanent damage without meaning to do so.  Please don’t push them.”

Faquire closed his eyes.  “I doubt that I’ll be able to fight back again tonight.  Normally, this much of that dizzy-medicine wouldn’t disable me, but, as you say, I’m not entirely well.  Don’t worry; I won’t fight anymore tonight.”

Wysire stepped forward and gave Faquire’s hand a squeeze.

“Faquire, I’ll be praying for you,” he said.  He looked as if he wanted to say more but thought that he shouldn’t.  He stepped back at last.

“We’ll return as soon as we can,” said Eriane.  “Hopefully Kandryl will agree to the plan.”

Eriane and Wysire then said goodbye to Faquire and left.  It was getting late, and most of the other boys would be in bed by now, but they went straight to Kandryl’s quarters.

THE TWELVE -- Chapter 25 - An Unpleasant Meeting

Djaisiuk had needed a distraction.  Tonight, of all nights, he needed to distract Kandryl, to give him something out of the ordinary to consider.  What better action than for Djaisiuk himself to leave his workroom at the sixth hour, rather than retiring, and to join the others of his group for a meal to which they had invited him some days earlier?  Djaisiuk wished to see them regardless, but he had never had time to do so before now, nor was he willing to awaken in Kandryl the suspicion that there might be an emotional tie between himself and the others.  Now, this latter consideration bore less weight than did the necessity of providing some distraction, some singular occurrence, which would give Kandryl pause.  So it was that Djaisiuk did not eat the meal provided to him on the night of the fourteenth day of capture.  Rather, he continued to work until nearly the sixth hour, at which time he left his room and headed directly towards the second level of the Detu section.
 

There were seven boys sitting around the large table when Djaisiuk entered the eating room.  He approached the table without hesitation and was not at all surprised when a dead silence descended on the group as they noticed him.  He did not speak, however, but silently sat down in an empty chair between Jade and Detrin.  Jaeger, who sat at Jade’s right, was the first to break the silence.
 

“Djaisiuk,” said Jaeger, “this is a pleasant surprise.  We’ve been hoping for some time that you’d come and join us.  How have you been?”
 

Djaisiuk did not answer, but simply reached forward to type a meal order into the central keypad, preferring to send his order non-verbally.
 

Jade chuckled.  “It’s reassuring to know that you haven’t changed,” he said.  “I’m afraid that you’ll find the fare much poorer here than that to which we were used on the ship.”
 

“I wish that Faquire was here,” said Sandy.  “Even if he couldn’t prepare the food himself, at least he could order the foods that we all ate.  I’m sure it would help to keep us healthier.”
 

“The foods here are specially designed to keep you healthy,” said Eriane.  “If you started getting sickly, I’m sure that the doctors would intervene with your diet, but there’s little likelihood of that.”
 

“I think that we’re all pretty well trained as far as diet goes,” said Jaeger.  “Even if Faquire isn’t choosing the foods, I’m sure that we can all be trusted to keep ourselves in fairly good health.”
 

“Do you get to order your own dinner each night, Djaisiuk or is it done without your input?” asked Cycil.  He waited for an answer, but Djaisiuk did not even acknowledge the question.  “We’ve been hoping that you would come, as Jaeger said,” he continued, “but Kiacyl always said that you were busy.  It really is so good to see you!”
 

Djaisiuk still did not look up at them, but sat silently looking down at the table.
 

“We were just talking about Kiacyl, in fact,” said Eriane.  “He’s rather late again.  He’s been coming regularly and eating with us, as he may have mentioned.  He generally arrives shortly after Detrin, but he’s almost an hour late now.  Do you know why he might be late?”
 

“No,” answered Djaisiuk.  His meal arrived, and he began to eat silently, still not looking at any of the others.  Eriane seemed surprised to have received an answer but soon realized that his had been the only ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question asked thus far.
 

Detrin smiled.  “It truly is good to see you, Djaisiuk,” he said.  He then laughed a little and continued, “And I agree with Jade: it’s comforting to know that you really haven’t changed.  Will you come again tomorrow night?”
 

Djaisiuk chose to ignore this question too.
 

“I’d guess that that means either that he doesn’t know or that he hasn’t made up his mind yet,” suggested Eriane.
 

“He probably won’t come,” said Leil, “if we pester him with too many questions.  He may not have changed, but it seems that we all have.  Can you imagine us making him the center of attention for this long at a meal on board the ship?  I don’t think that he’d be happy at all.”
 

“You’re right, Leil,” said Jaeger smiling.  “Djaisiuk, it’s wonderful to have you, as I said earlier, even if you don’t want to talk.  We won’t bother you any more, if you’d rather that we didn’t.”  Then, turning to Jade, he said, “You were saying something, I think, weren’t you?”
 

“I was just saying,” said Jade, “that the last time that Kiacyl was late was the time that he went to see Creole, Christopher, and Faquire.  I wonder if he’s gone back to see them again.”
 

“I wish that we could see them,” said Sandy.  “Do you suppose that Kandryl would let us, if we asked him?”
 

“It’s possible, but I feel rather inclined to doubt it,” said Eriane.  “Remember that Wysire tried that a few days after we arrived.”
 

“Where is Wysire?” asked Detrin.  “He’s late as well.”
 

“You’re right; I hadn’t noticed,” Eriane said.  “He’s usually the last to arrive, but he is generally here by now, isn’t he?”
 

“Maybe he’s with Kiacyl,” said Cycil smilingly.
 

Kiacyl and Wysire enter the room together and approach the table at which the boys were seated.
 

“Hello,” said Wysire, stepping around the table toward his normal seat.  “Sorry we’re late.”
 

“So you were together?” asked Sandy.  “We wondered.”
 

“Yes, we—” began Kiacyl, but he then cut off suddenly.  “Djaisiuk?!” he exclaimed.
 

Djaisiuk stopped eating and looked up as Kiacyl addressed him.  Wysire followed Kiacyl’s gaze and his eyes widened as well.  He quickly smiled though.
 

“Djaisiuk!” exclaimed Wysire.  “It’s so good to see you.  How have you been?”
 

Djaisiuk had not taken his eyes from Kiacyl, but he now lowered them again without acknowledging Wysire’s question.  He continued to sit silently, and he did not begin eating again immediately.
 

“Do you ignore your friends as much as you ignore me?” Kiacyl asked Djaisiuk sharply.
 

“I don’t think that he cares to talk tonight,” remarked Jaeger.  “We’re just happy to have him here.”
 

Wysire nodded in understanding and sat down, but Kiacyl did not look away from Djaisiuk.  Djaisiuk silently returned to his meal.
 

“May I ask how you were able to come tonight, Djaisiuk?” Kiacyl asked in a rather harsh voice.  “You usually don’t seem to have the time, and I thought that you didn’t care whether you did or not.  Why tonight?”
 

Jaeger frowned at Kiacyl’s tone of voice and the younger boys looked uncomfortable.  Jade cleared his throat.
 

“We don’t question Djaisiuk’s actions,” said Jade.  “No one does.”
 

“And he wouldn’t explain them, even if we did question them,” said Detrin.
 

“It just seems a remarkable coincidence,” Kiacyl continued, glancing at Wysire and then looking back at Djaisiuk.  “I’d like to know what influenced him to come tonight of all nights.”
 

“Maybe he missed us,” suggested Sandy.
 

Kiacyl raised his eyebrows.  “Is that possible?” Kiacyl asked Djaisiuk in a sarcastic tone of voice.  “I’m not asking if it’s true; I’m only asking whether that idea is even conceivable.  Is it?”
 

Djaisiuk no longer acknowledged either Kiacyl’s presence or his words.  Jaeger and several of the other boys, however, bristled at Kiacyl’s insinuations.
 

“Kiacyl!” said Jaeger sharply.  “Is this the way that you talk to him when you work with him?  Is this how you treat Djaisiuk every day?  It’s a wonder that he still works for your people at all, if this is the way that he’s treated.”
 

“Why?” asked Kiacyl.  “He acts like he doesn’t have any feelings; he seems to want people to think that he hasn’t; why should he be upset when people suggest that what he tries so hard to portray might actually be true?”
 

Djaisiuk continued to eat his meal unconcernedly and seemed to take no further notice of the conversation, either of the attack or of the defense.  Jaeger, Jade, Leil, and Eriane, however, seemed quite upset, and the others were clearly not happy with Kiacyl’s accusations.
 

“What difference does it make to you why he came?” asked Jade.  “You get to see him all day every day.  We never get to see him.  We’re happy that he’d come, regardless of the reason.  Are you so tired of his company that you’d rather not spend the evening in his presence?  If so, then you’re welcome to leave.”
 

“He won’t even look at you!” exclaimed Kiacyl.  “He won’t speak to you.  Why do you defend him so ardently?”
 

“He’s my friend!” answered Jade.
 

“Indeed?  Tell me honestly, how many words has he spoken to you in the last two weeks?  Or in the last two years, for that matter; I’d like to know.  How many times since you all arrived here has he sought your company?  I can assure you that he’s never spoken of any of you in my presence, although I’ve heard you all speak of him often enough.  Does he even care about any of you?”
 

“Stop it!” cried Leil.  “He is my friend too, and I won’t sit by and listen to you malign him so.  You don’t even know him!”
 

“And you do?  How often has he spoken to you in the last twelve months?  How many times before you all came here did he ever come and talk to you?  How often has he even looked at you?  If you really know him, tell me this, who would he call his best friend?  Who does he enjoy being with?  What is his favorite subject to discuss?  Is the answer to all of these questions ‘himself’?”
 

“Kiacyl, stop it,” Jaeger ordered authoritatively.  “You can drop the subject now, or you can leave.  Take your choice.”
 

“Again, I have to ask, why do you defend him?” persisted Kiacyl, ignoring the dangerous tone in Jaeger’s voice and the angry looks of most of the boys.  “And why do you get so offended at my questions?  If the answers are in his favor, then why not state them?  And if they’re not, then why do you refuse to admit it?”
 

Jade and Leil both stood suddenly as if they would remove Kiacyl from the table forcibly, but Jaeger stopped them.
 

“He’s Vukasovian,” said Jaeger.  “For all we know, he may be trying to incite some sort of violence.  Let it go.  If he insists on continuing this slander, then I suggest that we all ignore him for the remainder of the evening.”
 

“And every evening following, if it comes to that,” muttered Eriane quietly.
 

“I won’t listen to him talk about any one of the members of our group like that any more,” said Jade, still looking at Kiacyl, though speaking to Jaeger.
 

“Kiacyl, what is your goal in saying all of this?” asked Wysire softly.  “Are you truly trying to learn, or are you only trying to prove a point?”
 

Wysire’s voice seemed to have a calming effect on the group.  The tension seemed to lessen somewhat and everyone seemed to breath a little easier.  Kiacyl looked at Wysire and considered for a moment, as Jade and Leil sat down slowly, though they still looked half dangerous.
 

“I want to know why you all seem to care for him so much when he doesn’t seem to care about any of you,” answered Kiacyl slowly, the sarcastic tone almost completely gone from his voice.  “I don’t understand.”
 

Wysire nodded.  “It is hard to understand,” he said.  “We all love Djaisiuk because he is both our fellow Komislavian and our brother in Christ.  Even if he didn’t care about us at all, we’d still care for him because of who he is.  But you don’t understand Djaisiuk either.  He does care about all of us, but he doesn’t show it in the same way that we do.  He’s different, yes, but he is still human, and he does still have feelings.  He may choose not to show them, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.”
 

“Creole could always read Djaisiuk’s feelings,” said Sandy quietly.  “Djaisiuk could have a whole conversation with Creole without ever speaking a word.”
 

“That reminds me,” said Wysire.  “If you don’t mind my changing the subject, Kiacyl, I have word for everyone.”
 

“I’m sure that no one minds your changing the subject,” said Jaeger.  “Please do so.”
 

“It’s just as well that Djaisiuk is here, as it’s for him too,” continued Wysire as Kiacyl slowly sat down himself, having remained standing throughout the entire previous exchange.  “Kiacyl and I went to see Faquire, Creole, and Christopher, this evening, and the latter two send their greetings.”
 

There were several exclamations at this, and Wysire was immediately bombarded with questions.  Djaisiuk alone made no reaction; indeed it would almost seem that he hadn’t heard Wysire’s statement.  Kiacyl watched him closely, his expression still dark, but Djaisiuk still didn’t look up.
 

“I’ll tell you all that I can,” said Wysire, as soon as he could make himself heard above the other boys, “if you’ll just let me speak.”
 

Wysire proceeded to describe their visit to the three boys in great detail.  He told all that he had seen and heard and repeated nearly every word of their conversations.  The boys sat in rapt attention, occasionally making a comment or an exclamation at various times in the narrative.  They were all worried for Faquire and indignant about Creole and Christopher.  Eriane sank deeper and deeper into a gloomy silence as Wysire continued.
 

When Wysire finished, there was silence for a time.  All seemed absorbed in their own thoughts.  Kiacyl was the first to speak.
 

“Did you know that we’d gone to see them, Djaisiuk?” he asked somewhat sharply.  “Is that why you came tonight?”
 

“No,” said Djaisiuk, not looking at Kiacyl.  He had finished his meal and sat now sipping a glass of water, still looking down at the table.  His expression had not changed at all through Wysire’s narrative, nor did it change now.
 

“Djaisiuk,” said Wysire quietly, “do you think that there’s anything that we can do for Faquire?  I don’t know what’s wrong with him, and I don’t know what can be done.”
 

“Could it be something medical?” asked Jade when Djaisiuk did not answer.
 

All looked to Eriane for an opinion, but he only shook his head.
 

“I don’t know,” he said.  “I wish that they’d allow me to go and examine him, but I suppose that Wysire and I would need to go together, in case it’s a combination of both of our areas.”
 

Wysire nodded.  “I wish that I knew whether it was psychological or physiological.  If this is just something physical that they’ve done intentionally -- some sort of drug -- then that would make it somewhat easier.  But his expression!”  Wysire shuddered.  “It was a look of utter hopelessness, like a sense of perfect futility.  It was the sort of indifference that you see in people who have given up trying, or who have lost all hope.  He wouldn’t even look at me.”
 

“I can understand how one might lose all hope after being imprisoned in such a small place as you describe for so long,” said Leil quietly.
 

“But surely then he would have reacted all the more joyfully at seeing one of his friends,” said Jade.  “It doesn’t make sense, unless they’ve done something to him.”
 

Jaeger shrugged.  “You’re the doctor, Eriane,” he said.  “Does it sound like a physical problem?”
 

Eriane shook his head sadly.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “Without examining him myself, I can’t begin to guess what it might be.  Your description makes it sound more psychological, Wysire, but if you could find no answer, then there must be more to it.  If I could only examine him, I might have some better idea.”
 

The boys were all silent again for a moment, then Djaisiuk suddenly rose and started to turn away from the table.
 

“You’re not going, are you?” exclaimed Wysire.
 

“Oh, Djaisiuk, you can’t mean to go yet,” said Jade.  “The evening is just beginning.  Surely you don’t have to leave so soon, do you?”
 

Djaisiuk had indeed intended to leave.  His goal in coming had been accomplished, and there was no further need for him to stay.  He would normally have been asleep by this time, and his body was telling him that it was late.  He wanted to go to bed now.  However, when they addressed him so, he turned back to look at them, but whether he intended to answer or not will never be known, for at that moment a young Vukasovian messenger approached the table.  This newcomer looked over all of the boys, his eyes finally stopping on Kiacyl, the only Vukasovian at the table.
 

“Which is the one called Jysuke?” he asked.
 

Kiacyl silently indicated Djaisiuk, and the young man immediately stepped to the latter's side.  He handed a message to him, which Djaisiuk accepted it wordlessly.  This is what he read:

“Your former shipmate, Faquire, is suffering severe side-effects from a Vukasovian mind drug.  The drug had been fully eradicated from his body two days ago, but the symptoms persist.  I desire you to attempt to revive him.  You may bring whichever of your compatriots you feel are necessary, but no more than three.  — Kandryl.”
Djaisiuk finished reading the message and then looked up at the messenger.
 

“I am to escort you,” said the young man.  “Also whichever of the other Komislavians that you may wish to bring.”
 

Djaisiuk turned and looked at the other boys.  “Him,” he said quietly, indicating Wysire, and then said, “Him,” again, indicating Eriane.
 

The escort turned to Wysire and Eriane.  “You two will accompany us,” he said.
 

The boys all looked at each other, startled.
 

“Where are we going?” asked Eriane, remaining seated.
 

“And why?” asked Wysire, rising from his seat to follow.  “What is all of this?”
 

“I’m just obeying orders,” the Vukasovian replied sternly.  “And I suggest that you do the same.  Come.”
 

Eriane and Wysire looked at each other, then at Djaisiuk.  Eriane stood also as Djaisiuk moved around the table and began to walk away, in the direction of the main entrance.  The escort looked after him, motioned Eriane and Wysire to follow, then walked quickly after Djaisiuk, overtaking him before he was half-way to the exit.  He then looked back to make sure that Eriane and Wysire were following.
 

Eriane had given a quick goodnight to the other boys, saying that he was sure that this would be interesting and that he and Wysire would tell them what it was all about the next evening, if they could.  Then he and Wysire had hurried after Djaisiuk and his ‘escort’.