All Day Long I've Been With Jesus (Part 3 of 3)

 

As Dasco flattened himself on the bed his mind was filled with one final prayer. He had prayed for their protection during the jump and prayed for their souls if they didn't make it. But his final, overpowering desire was that, whatever happened, it would happen to all three of them. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he survived but Jan and Auden didn't, and he knew the others felt the same.

It was strange. Waiting there as if for some blow, even though everything seemed perfectly normal—as normal as anything had seemed since the invasion, anyway. And then they heard, blasting through the silence like the siren, the sound of a voice counting.

“10... 9... 8... 7... 6...”

Dasco could barely hear the voice over the pounding of his own heart. In just a moment they would know...

“3... 2... 1...”

And then it happened.

When Dasco had been about 5, he and Jan had been racing and Dasco, looking over his shoulder to see if the other boy was catching up, had run straight into a wall. That was what it felt like now. His body felt on fire with the pain and shock of a sudden impact and his head was whirling around so much that he couldn't have told you which direction was which. His mouth was filled with a hot, acrid feeling and if he had eaten that morning he probably would have thrown up. As it was, he felt as if he probably would vomit if he tried to move.

But slowly, after a few minutes, he found the world and his head had stopped spinning and he was able, somewhat gingerly, to roll over and sit up. He didn't feel good exactly, but he was definitely alive. “Jan? Auden?” he called out softly as he glanced at the other bunks.

“How do you feel?” asked Auden, sitting up. To judge by his appearance and his voice, he had come through the ordeal better than Dasco.

“I've felt better,” Dasco admitted. But already the nausea was gone and he felt only sore.

Jan slid off his bunk and leaned against the wall. “I hope we don't have to do that again any time soon.”

“We are now at the same point on the fourth-dimensional axis as Draxmoor, so I don't think we'll have to jump again—if they are returning there.”

Dasco stood up, testing his legs to make sure they would hold his weight. He walked to the window and looked out into the darkness of the void. What he saw was a strange sight—something so odd it didn't look as if you should be able to see it at all. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that there was something wrong with the window. It was as if the darkness itself had been twisted and broken. And beyond this, a cloud of rocks and earth floated aimlessly.

Auden had walked over to stand beside him. He seemed very impressed though he spoke calmly as he usually did. “So that is what it looks like.”

“What is it?”

“A wrinkle in space, I suppose you'd call it; a dimensional gateway—though they'll have to do something to stabilize it if they want to use it.”

Dasco nodded even though he still had no clear idea what Auden was talking about. And what interested him more was the debris which he realized must be the remnants of Cosin-34, at least whatever part of it had been sucked through the dimensional gateway with the ship.

He shook his head and turned away. There was nothing to be seen there.

“I wonder what happens next,” Jan commented as he sat down at the table.

“I know what we should do next,” answered Dasco as he and Auden joined him there.

“What?”

“We should thank God. He answered our prayer.” 

A few minutes after the boys finished their prayers, Pol sidled into the room. He stopped in the doorway and seemed startled by something, his eyes (always wider than a human's) growing even wider than usual.

“So,” asked Jan, looking at him, “now that we've made the jump, are we going to get any breakfast?”

The lizard boy hissed and retreated, returning a few minutes later with the boys' breakfast—though it was late enough in the day that it was more of a brunch. But they hadn't eaten since the day before (and had only had one meal then) and so they were hungry enough not to care about technicalities.

They were still eating when Bain put in his appearance.

He also stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly shocked. And then he walked forward to stand beside the table. “So, younglings, you seem to have come through your ordeal unscathed.”

“It was rather rough, but yes, we are all right now,” Dasco answered looking up.

“Is it always like that?” asked Jan.

“No, that is why I am rather impressed. That is one of the roughest crossings I've ever experienced. Even some of our men are still recovering; I lost three of your companions and all the rest are still laid out in their bunks. To see you up and around all ready--” Bane shrugged and smiled. “Well, maybe your God heard your prayers after all.” He threw his cape back. “Perhaps you will put in a good word with Him for me, hmm?”

Dasco didn't trust himself to try to respond to that. Instead, he changed the subject. “So what will happen now?”

“For a while nothing, I am afraid,” responded Bain, clasping his hands behind his back. “You must understand the nature of this situation. The fact that your planet allied with Zamuna and broke their treaty with Draxmoor gives us a reason to open communications with Zamuna. If there is to be war, it may be that Lord Kurizon will be asked to lead the attack, in which case we may have to go along or the empire may send another ship for us. But if Zamuna makes peace, then we will return home. But until negotiations are complete, we will have to wait here. It is unfortunate, but there it is.”

Dasco and his friends were in no particular hurry to reach the Draxmoor homeworld and so did not view the situation as unfortunate as Bain did.

“The only positive side of this situation is that it will allow you to familiarize yourself more with our culture before you reach the capital. So long as we remain here, I have few other responsibilities, and so I will teach you what I can.” He unclasped his hands and placed one hand on the table and looked at them. “You are guests and not prisoners—and you have no way to escape and nowhere to escape to if you wished—and so I may give you the liberty of the ship. As guests of the dragon, you are sacred and no one should bother you, but, just the same, I would stay out of the way of our men—there is no point in pushing your luck, eh?

The days that followed ran together in Dasco's mind. Nothing much happened and within the metallic interior of the ship hanging amid the black void of space the passage of time seemed almost meaningless.

A good deal of their time was spent with Bain. Though Dasco supposed he was also talking to the other Cosinites, he definitely seemed to take a special interest in the three of them and he dropped into their quarters often.

Dasco would have thought the presence of one of their enemies would be oppressive—but he couldn't help coming to like Bain. He could never forget how the man had allowed them the risk of abstaining from the Draxmoorian ritual but it was more than that. He genuinely seemed to appreciate the awkwardness of their position if he also had a somewhat optimistic faith that they would eventually get past it. His one overpowering concern seemed to be to lead them away from thinking about the past to looking towards their future among the Draxmoorians.

In theory, most of their time together was spent in his instructing them in the culture and ideals of Draxmoor's society. But in reality, he spent more time talking about himself. (He had a degree of self-confidence and self-interest which would have made him insufferable if it had not been pared with a good deal of humor and civility.) And it became more and more clear that, while the boys were in no hurry to move on, Bain was very anxious to return home. Partly because he had too much of a love for comfort and luxury to enjoy spending a long time on a warship, but partly because he seemed honestly homesick for his home on one of the planetoids which surrounded the homeworld of Draxmoor. The boys learned a great deal about the large estate he occupied there when not on active service for the empire. It was in one of these conversations that they learned, in passing, that Pol was Bain's son. Because his mother was one of his slaves and one of the lizard people, the man didn't seem to think that fact especially significant. The fact that he could mention that so casually and unconcernedly reminded the boys of just how far away from home they really were, even though the remnants of Cosin-34 could still be seen floating outside the ship.

When Bain wasn't in their cabin talking to them, they had their own projects to work on. Fortunately, all three of them had had their tablets with them when captured, and now, as by common but unspoken consent, they were working on recording everything they could about Cosin-34. Dasco recorded details of the government and policies of the planet, especially of the events which had led up to the Draxmoorian invasion. Jan was kept busy trying to remember and record the minutiae of cultural and historical details which comprised the planet's society. Auden, of course, worked on recording scientific knowledge and accomplishments, with an emphasis on the Cosinite plague and its treatment.

With Cosin-34 gone forever, all this record-keeping seemed useless, but all three boys felt it was necessary. Perhaps, in some way, they felt that this kept the planet alive in some way—to them, at least.

But they didn't spend all their time working. Often they also took the opportunity of exploring the ship. Despite the fact that it was an enemy ship, Dasco couldn't deny being curious about it and wanting to learn what he could. They sometimes talked to the other Cosinite guests but there was a wall between them. Dasco wasn't sure if the others were jealous of the special attention that Bain gave them or whether it was due to the fact (which had clearly somehow been learned by the others) that they had refused to take part in the pagan ritual of the Draxmoorians while the others had. As for the Draxmoorians on the ship, the most simply ignored them. Perhaps they were annoyed by having so many civilians on board, but they didn't express any particular animosity so long as the boys stayed out of the way. A few even seemed friendly.

But there were two exceptions. On a few occasions, they ran into Blue Cedric or Lady Katalina. And both of them made their feelings clear—the latter by a cold, arrogant disdain, the former by violent expressions and guttural sounds which were probably muttered oaths but were too garbled and bestial for the boys' translators to translate (which was probably just as well).

“Yes, well, you must excuse them for their incivility,” Bain explained when Dasco mentioned the matter to him. “Both of them have a valid reason for being out of sorts—and for being angry with you, especially.”

“What do you mean?” asked Jan.

Bain sighed and didn't directly answer the question. “As an artist and a craftsman, I take pride in my work. Of course, Cosin-34 was not a military power and could have put up little fight against us under any circumstances. But because of my skill in reconnaissance and planning, the battle was extremely simple.” He adjusted the clasp of his cape. “The men of Draxmoor prize above all things...”

“Honor,” finished Dasco, who had heard Bain make this speech often enough. “And next to honor, strength. And next to strength, efficiency.”

“Just so. And now we are strong enough and efficient enough that most battles are an easy matter. But when war is so easy, it removes from it most of the honor and all of the fun. All our men are somewhat discontent—that is why most hope that Zamuna will not accept our terms of peace; it is a strong enough power that such a war would be a war worth fighting. I think the empire realizes this which is why they offered Zamuna such steep terms of peace.”

“But if you want war that badly, why bother offering terms of peace at all?” asked Jan.

“Because that,” explained Bain with an almost innocent simplicity, “would be dishonorable.”

“But what does any of this have to do with Blue Cedric and Lady Katalina?--or with us?” asked Dasco, who was still curious about the original topic.

“Because both of them, for different reasons, are very anxious for all the glory and honor which can be achieved by a warrior. Blue Cedric began his career as a gladiator fighting in the arena and owes his own freedom and his present position solely to his own skill and courage—because of that, he has an insatiable hunger for further honor and an appalling fear of losing it. Lady Katalina is in a somewhat different position.”

Bain took a step forward and threw his cape back. “I suppose you understand that Lady Katalina is Lord Kurizon's daughter.” Dasco nodded. They had figured that out before. “And you realize that she is one of the Dragon's chosen ones; she is a Dragonrider. You saw her, perhaps, in action during the battle?”

They had seen her then—seen her cut through Cosin-34's mech like a purple meteor. But they had also seen her in action since. While the ship waited in the void, some of the men had been busy constructing a frame that would stabilize the “wrinkle in space” allowing it to become a functional dimensional gateway. And often the girl warrior had worked with them, cutting through all obstructions like a living sword.

“Throughout our history, there have been born certain ones who can wield such a power, the power to convert and manipulate pure energy—usually, though not always, they occur in some of the high ranking families of the empire and are believed to be a sign of the favor of the First Dragon.” (“In reality,” Auden commented after Bain left, “it is probably some kind of genetic mutation which is passed on recessively through the family lines of Draxmoor.”) “At any rate, because she possesses such power, she is anxious to prove herself and gain the recognition of the empire. But her father is rather reluctant to allow her too much of a place in battle—you might not suspect this from his demeanor, but Lord Kurizon is very much attached to his daughter and is very concerned about anything happening to her. I suspect that if it were a choice between her life and the life of all his troops he would sacrifice us all—even me—without a second thought.”

   

It was that same night when Dasco awoke suddenly out of a sound sleep. It was dark in their room and no way to know the time, but he felt it must be around midnight. For a moment, he didn't know what had waked him, but after a moment, he realized there was some kind of commotion outside of their room. He could hear the sound of boots clicking against the metal hallways of the ship in a rapid staccato. Sitting up in bed, he glanced around and realized that Auden was sitting at the table, silently staring into space.

“Any idea what's going on?” he asked in a low voice and he clambered out of his bunk and walked over to join the younger boy. He tried to be quiet since Jan was still most definitely asleep and snoring loudly.

Auden shook his head. “No. But something definitely has the crew stirred up. I thought maybe the order had come to move, but I still haven't heard the engines turn on.” He shrugged. “Pol was here earlier and he went out when the commotion started. We may be able to find out something from him when he comes back.”

“How long have you been awake?” Dasco sat down, wrapping his blanket around his shoulders like a cloak.

For a moment, Auden didn't answer. “I never went to sleep.”

There was a long silence as neither boy spoke. And then Auden commented, not looking at Dasco. “Tomorrow. It will be exactly a week—exactly a week since the invasion.”

Dasco wrapped his blanket tighter around himself, but not because of the cold. There was another long silence—Dasco almost spoke once or twice, but no word could be useful now.

“Seven days of carrying this weight,” Auden said finally, still not looking at Dasco. “Everything that happened—everything we've lost—and now living here with our enemy. And it's only been a week.” And now he turned to face Dasco. In the dim light, Dasco thought he saw the traces of tears on his face, but it was hard to tell. As he spoke, there was something in his face and manner that reminded Dasco of the fact that he was the youngest of them—and yet also something that seemed to go beyond his years. “I-I don't think I can take years and years of this—of carrying this burden. It would be bad any way—but to living with these people, seeing them all around us—and remembering what they did to Cosin-34—I just don't think I can do it.”

Dasco hesitated for another moment. “We can't face years of this. But we don't have to. No one lives through more than one day at a time. Each day—that is our trial and our opportunity—our opportunity to live with Him.” He knew it was true; he knew it was what he had to say. But Dasco knew it didn't really help any. “And I know it's hard to sleep—I've struggled to fall asleep ever since the invasion happened. But staying awake doesn't help any and we need to keep up our strength.”

“Of course.” Auden spoke in a perfectly calm and composed voice, with no hint of humor. “To do otherwise would be inefficient. And efficiency is what Draxmoor prizes most next to strength and honor.”

“Well, perhaps they do have a point.”

But despite his advice to Auden, Dasco laid awake for a long time afterward. Partly because there was still the sound of people moving around in the corridor outside; partly because he couldn't stop thinking about the conversation with Auden. They all carried a heavy burden, but it must have been the worst for Auden who was, after all, only eleven, even if he had always been mature for his age. He wished he could have said something to comfort him—but nothing he could say could erase the reality of what had happened. The only thing they could do was face it—face it day by day and every day try to move up one step higher.

When Dasco woke up in the morning, he felt a strange sense of irony. He had woken during the night to the sound of unusual noise. But now he woke to the sound of unusual silence. There was always a slight hum of noise from the rest of the ship but now it was as if all the sound had been sucked away like a vacuum.

To wake up to that silence was odd. But when it continued, Dasco began to be both puzzled and worried. Twenty minutes later, as he sat at the table with the other boys, he asked in a low voice: “Do you think something's wrong?”

Jan shook his head uncertainly. “There's still so much we don't know about these people. Maybe this is some kind of special ceremony they go through.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“They may be getting ready to move the ship—either to attack Zamuna or to return to Draxmoor—and so it would make sense for them to have some kind of ceremony or ritual, which might be why they're all so quiet.”

“Maybe.” It made Dasco feel a little lost remembering how little they really knew about the people they were now living with. Of course, Jan had done some studying about Draxmoorian culture and now Bain had taught them more, but it was so little by comparison to all there was to know that it almost made their ignorance seem greater.

The boys stopped talking abruptly as Pol crept into the room, bringing the boys' breakfast. The construction of his face always left his expression more or less inscrutable but they could tell the lizard boy was upset about something. His movements were jerky and uncertain as he unpacked the food and he kept making a sort of whining or whimpering sound in the back of his nose. (It still sounded an awful lot like hissing.) Dasco couldn't help connecting this with the feeling of something unusual about the morning, though, of course, he was sure that Pol had plenty of things in his own life to be upset about without it having anything to do with the rest of the ship.

But when Bain entered the apartment a few moments later, Dasco knew that something was very, very wrong. His clothing was the same as always but slightly disheveled as if he had dressed in a hurry, and his mustache was not quite neatly trimmed. He was constantly fiddling with the clasp of his cape and he kept blinking nervously as if to make sure that his eyes were still working properly.

“What's happened?” asked Dasco, as their host approached. There was no need to ask if something had happened.

Bain walked up to the table, still playing with his cape and not meeting their eyes. “Younglings, I feel I must offer you an apology. I believed I had offered you an honor by capturing you and bringing you away from your planet. If it were not for me, you would have died or been taken into slavery like the rest of your people. But with the way things have turned out, I may not be able to keep my promise of honor; and, mayhaps, I would have been better to let you face death with your people rather than to bring you out here.”

Jan's eyes almost seemed to light up for a moment. “So we are in danger?”

“We are all in danger. But you might be especially in danger if anyone learns about what happened before—when we jumped.”

“Why does that matter now?” Dasco pushed aside his food and looked up at the Draxmoorian.

Bain let out a long sigh and threw his cape back with a half-hearted motion. “I see there is no point in peripatetic explanation. Lady Katalina has fallen sick. She is in a coma, with a high fever, and the ship's medic can do nothing for her. We have never seen a disease quite like this.” As upset as he was, Bain hadn't lost his conversational flare. He paused here as if for dramatic effect.

The boys were not especially affected. They barely knew Katalina and had no reason to be especially solicitous about her health.

“You do not understand,” Bain went on, seeming to understand their indifference. “With his daughter seeming at the point of death, Lord Kurizon is almost mad with worry and fear. This is an ailment we have never seen before and with it striking Lady Katalina, who is one of the dragon's chosen ones, Lord Kurizon is saying it must be a curse—that someone on this ship has committed some sacrilege which has caused the First Dragon to afflict her with this condition.”

“Isn't that a little--” Dasco began. He had been going to say silly but realized that might be a little insensitive.

“As I said, it is madness,” Bain answered, actually meeting Dasco's eyes for the first time. “And you have not even heard the full story. Lord Kurizon is desperate to save his daughter and he has nothing to use save his power as commander of this ship.”

“Next to honor, what you prize most is strength,” remarked Jan in a cold voice. “But strength doesn't help you much in a time like this, does it?”

“Lord Kurizon seems to believe it will. He believes if he can find the offending person and destroy them, the curse will be lifted. That is why you three are in especial danger—since your refusal to pray could easily be seen as the cause of this. Not that it matters.” Bain looked down and began playing with the clasp of his cape again. “I fear none of us will survive.”

“Do—do you mean that seriously?” Dasco was trying to make sense of Bain's words.

“I was not using words loosely when I called this madness. Lord Kurizon is desperate and perhaps drunk with power. And so he has issued an order that if Lady Katalina does not recover before this day is over and if no clue can be found to the cause of her condition, he will begin executing every man on this ship until he finds the guilty one—even if that means killing off every single person on the ship.”

“Does he really have the authority to make a command like that?”

“Unfortunately, yes. So long as he on this ship, he has absolute authority—even over me. Of course, if he does carry out the threat and then return to Draxmoor, the leaders of the empire will take exception to it, but it will be too late then. But that is not even the worst of this situation.”

“There's more?” Jan leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table.

“He plans to carry out the execution by means of disintegration, believing that only this would be sufficient to lift the curse.”

“Disintegration?”

It was Auden who answered. “Disintegration makes uses of desynchronized photons and beta radiation to destroy matter at a subatomic level. Death by disintegration involves an instantaneous resolution of the atoms of the body into their composite particles.”

Bain nodded. “And it is the most feared form of death we know.”

Dasco wondered why it was so feared. Certainly, it was an unsettling idea to think of the body being destroyed in that way, but if it was instantaneous then the actual experience couldn't be that bad—at least not compared to some of the stories he had heard of Draxmoor's other forms of execution.

Jan frowned for a moment in concentration; apparently, he was wondering about the same thing. Then his expression smoothed out. “Of course. Because you believe that the body and soul are bound at death—so if you instantly destroy the body, then you destroy the soul as well.”

“Exactly. Disintegration is death without honor and without hope.”

Pol, who was crouched at the side of the room, whimpered again as Bain spoke.

“Oh, keep quiet,” Bain exploded, a little impatiently. “It makes no difference to you. You don't have a soul to worry about. The rest of us do.”

The lizard boy did not seem exactly comforted by this.

“At any rate,” Bain continued, “that is where things stand. I thought I owed it to you to come by and explain matters. Everyone on the ship who knows anything of science or medicine is scrambling to come up with some kind of diagnosis or treatment for Lady Katalina—with their lives on the line, you can imagine their state of mind. Perhaps something will come of that. If not--” Bain shrugged and blinked uncertainly. “Well, we can only wait and hope for the best.”

And with that, he left the boys to their breakfast, which was now cold. As soon as he was gone, Pol also crept out of the room.

Jan shook his head. “As advanced and competent as these people are, I wouldn't them to be so superstitious.”

“Desperation drives men to strange lengths,” answered Dasco soberly. “And their very advancement may play a role. To be so powerful and knowledgeable—and then to come up against something you cannot understand and cannot overcome. It would have an impact.”

Auden was staring at the table with a strange expression. “Seven days,” he said in a quiet, expressionless day.

“What?”

“It's been exactly a week since the invasion.”

“And--” Jan set his fork down and looked at his brother.

“A seven-day incubation period. High fever and a comatose state. There's no question. She has the plague.”

As simple as it was, it was several seconds before Dasco could take it in. And then he understood. “Of course. There were still people on Cosin-34 who were infected even if the plague had mostly run its course. And with her being in the middle of the battle, it makes sense that she would get infected.”

Jan almost smiled. “There is some justice in it, then. They brought this curse on themselves.”

Dasco wasn't hungry anymore. He pushed back from his place and walked over to the window and looked out into the darkness of space. But even with his back turned, he could tell, from Auden's voice, that the boy was frowning in concentration. “With this being an isolated incident, they probably won't be able to diagnose or treat the disease, since they've probably never encountered it before.”

“Which means they will execute their threat on us all.”

Dasco didn't turn around. “You're taking this all very calmly.”

“Of course. This is the best thing that could have happened to us.”

“The best thing?”

“Dasco, don't you understand?” Jan's voice rose slightly and took on an argumentative, almost rhetorical tone, yet it was also slightly chooked. “We are captives of these people. We are doomed to spend the rest of our life among them, forced to help and serve them. Maybe it's better than merely being slaves in the sense that it would be more comfortable, but we would be just as truly in bondage--and as forced allies, we would have to live out our lives as traitors; serving our enemy. But now—now we have the release of death.” Jan's voice fell. “It is not the future I ever would have wanted, but a swift and painless death is something better than any life which we can now expect. These people are terrified of disintegration because they believe it destroys the soul as well as the body, but we know better. This is God's mercy to us—to allow us to die swiftly and with honor.”

Dasco stared out in the darkness, staring at the floating fragments of rock that were all that remained of his home. He thought of all that the Draxmoorians had taken from him; of all that they had lost on that fateful day; of the bloodshed and misery they had created. But there were other things swirling in his mind like the floating debris. He thought of Pol whimpering over the loss of a soul no one believed he had; he thought of Bain the Unblinking blinking nervously in his fear of death; he thought of a father so desperate over his daughter's life that he would sacrifice his own crew and his own honor in the mad impossible chance of saving her.

His vision blurred and he closed his eyes to shut out the darkness. And his voice was low and husky when he spoke. “Or--” and that one conjunction hurt his throat more than he would have thought possible-- “or we could help them.”

“What?” Jan's voice burst out like an explosion.

Dasco opened his eyes and turned around to face his friends. “If Lady Katalina is suffering from the Cosinite plague, then we know how to cure her. Auden is the one who developed that cure, after all.”

Jan seemed half angry, half confused. “But—why would we help them? These are our enemies. Have you forgotten what they did to Cosin-34?”

“No.” Dasco took a step forward and looked down at his hands. “I wished I could have fought with father and the others; I would rather have died fighting to defend Cosin-34 than to live like this. But Cosin-34 is gone; we have nothing left to defend. The death of this entire ship would not bring our home back together.”

“I don't understand what you're saying.”

“Do you remember the last thing my father said to us? He said that after the battle we might be needed more than ever. I think he might we would be needed to rebuild Cosin-34 if it had somehow survived. But—here we are. We did survive that battle when we should have died; we have been given a place of honor and privilege when we could have been sold as slaves. There must be some reason; there must be some purpose. And perhaps it was that we might help these people.”

“But they are our enemies.”

“I know.” Dasco walked back to stand beside the table. “But—but isn't that the promise we made? To live like that song? All day long I've been with Jesus. And isn't that what He did--gave His life, serving His enemies?”

“But that's--” and then Jan trailed off. “Is that really what we should do?” His face darkened. Dasco could almost read his thoughts. He could tell how confused and upset he was by the idea. Dasco couldn't blame him for that. He didn't exactly like it either. But he couldn't escape the conviction that it was the right thing to do.

“Before you make any decision, there is one thing you should consider,” said Auden soberly. “Even with our people, the cure wasn't always successful—and since Lady Katalina is a mutant, we have no idea what effect the plague or the treatment will have on her unique physical nature. If we try to cure her and fail or even make her condition worse—well—I don't know what they will do to us, but I'm sure they'll do something.”

Dasco nodded as he sat down at the table again. “I know. That's why, before we do anything, we should pray again.”

When Bain dropped by again, a few minutes later, he found the three boys, looking very sober, waiting for him.

“Well, younglings, such long faces are to be expected,” he remarked, “but I believe there is something more afoot, is there not? You have something you wish to say, hmm?”

Dasco took a deep breath. His fist was clenched so hard that his nails were digging into the palm of his hand. His mind was a turmoil that was half fear and half disgust. But his words were calm and clear. “Yes, Bain. We believe that we can cure Lady Katalina.”

Bain's hands dropped to his side and for just a moment he seemed merely dumbfounded, so much that he lost all of his accustomed poise and flair. “I will not dishonor you by asking if you are serious or if you have considered the risk of such an idea. You are youthful but too wise to make such suggestions needlessly.”

“Yes, Bain. We are serious. And we recognize the risk involved.”

And suddenly, Bain laughed and threw his cape back. “Ah, well, is it not as I have said all along? I clearly chose well in choosing you three. Now the only issue is convincing Lord Kurizon to allow the attempt. Since you foreigners, he may be suspicious, but I foresee that his desperation will override his caution.”

And so it was that, a few moments later, the three boys found themselves standing in the presence of the captain of the ship. This was their first time to see Lord Kurizon in a close and personal setting. But they had seen him from a distance before and it was clear even from that slight exposure that he had changed drastically. His face was restless and irresolute, the complete reverse of the staid and stolid warrior they had seen before. He sat in his chair with a strange posture and kept shifting nervously as if unable to find the proper way to sit. Still, for all of that, there was something rigid and stern about him, the unyielding skeleton which remained solid no matter how weak the flesh might be.

Everyone else in the room clearly reflected their leader's mood. The Draxmoorian officers moved quietly and delicately, with a sense of unease and carefulness that Dasco had never seen in them before. The lizard men cowered on the fringes of the room with every sign of abject terror. Blue Cedric stood beside the captain, perhaps acting as a kind of guard, and there was something even in his manner of nervousness or fear. And his skin seemed a slightly different tint than usual, almost aquamarine rather than blue, which Dasco took as a sign of mental turmoil, though he really didn't know.

“Bain the Unblinking.” Lord Kurizon opened the address in a voice that seemed raspy and rather sharp. “What cause have you to intrude upon us at this time?”

Bain, who had completely recovered his usual manner, bowed deeply. “As you know, my liege, these three Cosinites are among the guests of the Dragon. They are the most learned and most accomplished of the people of Cosin-34; specially chosen by myself to bring honor to the glory of the Empire.” Lord Kurizon moved impatiently and Bain went on hurriedly. “And with their great knowledge of the strange and arcane sciences of their world, they have found a way to cure Lady Katalina.”

For a moment, Draxmoorian captain seemed to start in his chair, as if stung by the words. But his frown deepened and he stared fixedly at the three boys.

“These foreign whelps cannot help us,” growled Blue Cedric in a guttural voice. “More likely they are the cause of the curse.”

“Really? I would think more likely the cause is something bigger and bluer,” remarked Bain cheerfully. “If we are to try to destroy the cause of the curse, we should start with the biggest and bluest thing we can find. And aside from that, I cannot think of any other option than to trust these youths--”

“Silence your prattle,” Lord Kurizon exploded. He moved forward in his chair and propped his chin against his hand, glaring into the faces of Dasco, Jan, and Auden. “You are not children of the Dragon. How would you know anything of the sickness or the curse that could afflict one of our people?”

Dasco was still the spokesman for the group. “Because we believe that your daughter contracted a disease from our planet during the invasion; because it is something we have seen before, we know how to treat it.”

“Hmm. And perhaps you wish to avenge your people by striking at one of ours. Would you dare to risk such a plan, boy? Remember that I am the heir of the dragon's scepter. You are under my power—I can destroy both your body and your soul.”

“No.” Dasco could not believe his words came as calmly as they did. “You have power over our bodies, but not our souls. But we serve the God who does have power over the body and soul, and with God as our witness we promise you that we will do everything in our power to save your daughter.”

For just a moment more, Lord Kurizon seemed to hesitate. Then he struck the arm of his chair with a movement of decision. “Very well. But if you fail, then you will learn as you never imagined before what is meant by the full fury of the dragon. And you, Bain the Unblinking,” he added, turning to their host, “you also will take responsibility for whatever comes to pass.”

Bain bowed. “Once before, I trusted my life and my honor to these younglings. And what is it the gamblers say? Double or nothing?”

The next several hours were a blur to Dasco. If they had been on Cosin-34, administering the cure for the plague would have been a simple matter. But it was something so unlike anything known in the medical science of the Draxmoorians that everything had to be done from scratch. Fortunately, with the invasion, some medical equipment and medicine had been carried off as plunder from Cosin-34 and they were able to set it up in the ship, creating a makeshift replica of a Cosinite hospital. Though Auden was the scientist of the group, Dasco and Jan worked closely with him as the only ones who had even the foggiest idea of what he was doing.

But the worst of it came after the treatment had been administered because, of course, it was never an instantaneous cure. So then it was just a matter of waiting to see what would happen.

It was a strange sort of sick-room. Lady Katalina lay in a cot at the center of the room, connected to a makeshift IV (something unknown to the Draxmoorians and not even common among the Cosinites.) As she lay there, she seemed so small and young, very unlike the stern warrior they had seen before and much more like the little girl that she really was. Auden remained stationary at her side, using what equipment he had to monitor her state. Dasco and Jan remained in the background; there was nothing they could do now. Lord Kurizon sat at the other side of the cot, watching for any sign of improvement. Blue Cedric stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, guarding them against any unneeded interruption. And Bain, the only one in the room who seemed perfectly at ease, stood admiring himself in a mirror at the other end of the room.

For hours they remained like this as the moments trickled down like the medicine in the IV. And then, for the first time, the girl stirred on her cot and, after a brief convulsion, she opened her eyes and stared around dazedly.

“Katalina!” Lord Kurizon cried. But at that moment, he was not Lord Kurizon. He was only a father.

She muttered something incoherently; moved as if to rise and then fell back on the cot.

“A period of weakness is to be expected,” remarked Auden, cool and collected, as he made a few notations on his tablet. “However, the fever has broken and she is out of the coma. She should be fully recovered shortly. Based on available data, I believe her unique physical make-up should expedite the recovery.”

Lord Kurizon drew himself up, seeming to reforge his dignity with the movement, and when he spoke it was as the captain of the ship and the heir to the dragon's scepter. “You three; the children of Cosin-34. You have truly proved to be an honor to us; you have the gratitude of the empire.”

“Could you expect any less from the proteges of Bain the Unblinking?” asked Bain, walking forward to join the group.

Dasco shook his head. “The praise does not lie with us. It was our God who gave us this wisdom and this opportunity. It was by His grace that we could do this, and it was for His honor that we did it.”

Lord Kurizon shook his head. “We know nothing of the strange and obscure gods of your planet. But I do know what you have done this day. If you have done it by and for your god, then give him praise for my sake.”

Dasco bowed, mostly because he had no idea what to say to a speech like that.

And besides, his mind was far away. He knew a crisis had been passed—and not merely in the sickness of Lady Katalina. They had made their decision; they had served their enemy. He didn't know what the future would hold for them. He still couldn't conceive what it would be like to live out their lives in the path they had chosen; but he knew they had chosen it and he knew it was the path of Him Whom they followed.

He stared around him and felt a strange feeling come over him, which he couldn't stop and for a moment couldn't identify. And then he realized, with shock, that it was happiness, happiness for what they had done, happiness for the joy and relief he could detect from all the Draxmoorians, happiness that God had allowed them to do something for Him and to speak for Him in the midst of their enemies. And the words came to his mind with a strange sense of fitness and reality he had thought they would never have again after all he had been through. And he glanced at Jan and Auden and mouthed the words in an inaudible whisper.

“All day love I've been with Jesus/It has been a wonderful day.”

   

And so it was that Dasco, Jan, and Auden were brought into the empire of Draxmoor. With the testimony of Bain the Unblinking and Lord Kurizon to back them, they would soon find themselves in positions of great importance within the empire. They would not always be safe positions--this would not be the last time that the three of them almost faced death because of their convictions. But through everything that followed, they remained true to the God they believed in. And they always remained true to their determination to serve Him even when that meant serving their enemy.

And they did serve. Despite the fact that they were foreigners, they would end up being leaders in the government and would be largely responsible for guiding Draxmoor through the most tempestuous period of its history. They would also help bring some changes and reforms to the empire, tempering its harshest ideals and mitigating its cruelest practices. They founded orphanages--institutions formerly unknown in Draxmoor—and would be responsible for a hundred other minor reforms within the empire. They also supported the work of Christian missionaries so that Christianity would become a recognized and quite definite religion within Draxmoor, though never the predominant one. And very near the end of Dasco's life, he helped regather some of the survivors of Cosin-34 and lead to the forming of a new commonwealth which was the inheritor of Cosinite culture.

It was largely the influence of these three boys, taken so early from their own homes, that altered the course of Draxmoor's history. Because of them, the empire becoming humanized if never exactly humane. Because of them, Draxmoor gained at least something of the softer and more tender side of civilization, even if it never lost its harsh and unyielding idealism of honor, strength, and efficiency. And it was largely because of this change that it was able to enter into an alliance with the federation of Ursa Prime hundreds of years later during the war with the Legion.

But for Dasco, Jan, and Auden, their reward was not in such remote and distant futurity. It was in the assurance of their life; the fact that as they lived they sought every day to live in such a way that they could testify that night that they had lived with Jesus all day long. That was their testimony in life and in death; a testimony to the power and life of Christ even in the midst of the harsh, pagan empire of their enemy, much as the original life of Christ had been lived in the midst of a harsh, pagan empire of His enemies.