The modified canines the Scourge used as scouts were forced to swim in the drowning tanks for hours upon hours to prove their stamina and courage. The weaker ones died and sank to the bottom of the black ichor. Their rotting bodies added to the nauseating stench of the tanks and served as a warning for others.
But not for me, Xairn thought wildly. I am no urlich—I am his only son. Why? Why is he doing this?
It was a question he asked himself daily aboard the Fathership as his father perpetuated cruelty upon cruelty on the son he claimed to love. The worst thing was Xairn never knew when the punishment was coming. Most of the time his father ignored him completely but sometimes he would be kind and almost loving for days. He would take Xairn around the ship and talk to him about its inner workings, teach him the history of their people and explain their hatred of the race-killing Kindred who had doomed them to slow extinction after the abortive genetic exchange.
Then, just as Xairn was beginning to trust him, beginning to think that this time his father truly cared, he would do something vicious and cruel, something Xairn could never have expected. This time they had been walking by the urlich kennels while the AllFather lectured him about the proper way to train the modified animals. Then, with no warning at all, his bony, scabrous hands had closed on Xairn’s arms and he had flung him into the deepest tank.
“Father, please!” Xairn flailed wildly at the viscous black ooze that surrounded him. “Please, I can’t swim!”
“I know you cannot, my ssson.” The AllFather could barely stop laughing long enough to speak. “But you ssshall learn. Or like the weakest urlich, you ssshall die. Remember, only the ssstrong are fit to sssurvive.”
“Father, help! I’m scared! I can’t—” He went under, his mouth filled with the noxious slime. Fighting his way to the surface, he spat it out. His arms and legs were getting tired—it was like swimming in glue. But he knew if he didn’t make it out on his own, he would die in the tank. Die and sink to the bottom to join the bones below. Summoning the last of his strength, he somehow made his way to the side of the tank. To his immense relief, the AllFather reached down and offered him a hand.
“Come, my ssson.” His soft, hissing voice was almost soothing. “You have proved yourssself. Well done.”
“Thank you, Father.” Xairn took the offered hand gratefully and allowed himself to be dragged out of the tank. He lay on his side on the cold metal floor, choking and gasping, trying to get his breath. Over, it was over now. He’d proven to his father that he could survive the tanks. Maybe now he would be loved…
And that was when those same, bony, horribly strong hands picked him up and threw him in again.
Xairn forced himself to look away from the window which framed the cool, lapping blue waters of the pool. It was nothing like the slimy black ooze of the drowning tanks aboard the Fathership, but the thought of immersing himself in any kind of deep water still made his flesh crawl.
He’d lost count of how many times his father threw him into the tanks before he finally let Xairn come out for good. True, he had learned to swim, but it had almost cost him his life. He had been ill for days in the small, lying in the small, bare cot he’d claimed for himself in a hidden corner of the vast Fathership. He’d been half delirious with fear and loneliness as he choked the black slime of the tanks from his lungs.
Visions of his mother, she of the beautiful green eyes, had danced in his head. Xairn knew she couldn’t come to him no matter how much he longed for her—but his father could. Just one kind word, one gentle touch would have healed not only his body, but his wounded young soul as well. But though he had cried out for him, the tears sliding down his cheeks and wetting his flat, thin pillow, his father hadn’t come to see him. Not once.
Xairn forced himself to stop remembering. He was surprised at the tightness in his chest and the stinging in his eyes. Why get upset about something that was in the distant past? It’s over, he told himself harshly, turning to pace the rest of the small living space. Why let it affect me now?
Walking back to the living area, he sank down on the small couch and picked up the remote control for Lauren’s flatscreen. The humans used such devices for entertainment—projecting programs about everything from sporting events to cooking techniques to fictional stories with idealized endings. Xairn didn’t have much interest in any of it but there was nothing else to do. He pointed the remote and clicked.
“…local girl disappeared from a famous Sarasota landmark just last week,” a human male with perfectly coiffed hair and brilliantly white teeth was saying.