Date: Mon, 18 Dec 2000 21:15:21 -0800 (PST) From: Wishus Teglin Subject: Why Not Me? Chapter 1, M/b Why Not Me? A Boylove Romance Chapter One by Teglin Thanks to Ty and both of my Michael friends for their criticism, and their ideas on how to make this story better. FOREWORD: Dedicated to the boy who sat apart, ignored by all the men, as they lavished attention and praise on his prettier friend. I've always wondered how he felt, and if I would have done the right thing, had I been there. Copyright 2000 by Teglin. You may freely copy this boylove romance and distribute it. Please have the courtesy not to alter it in any way. WARNING: This boylove romance contains descriptions of sexual acts between men and minor boys. If such a story is illegal where you are, or for your age, or the concept of a man/boy relationship offends you, don't read further. Chapter One "Some men love boys. Did you know that?" the kid broke the awkward silence right on cue, just as Kallen jerked the tabs to open the diaper. The boy sounded rather sad all of a sudden, his rasping sandpaper voice more hushed than normal, yet still timed to distract the both of them from the embarrassment of the moment. Kallen wondered if the boy even knew he did this, or was it some subconscious mechanism to hide his shame? He wondered too if the boy realized how ineffective the ploy was. More than once he had seen the boy's cheeks flush red, humiliated at the touch of the man's fingers, as he wiped feces that had spread in gelatinous, stinking mess all over his marble-sized balls, lifting his tender little unhooded penis, wiping there too, then cleaning between his butt cheeks. This time, the boy's question hit Kallen like a unexpected blow to the stomach. Well, was it really a question, or just one more of a hundred maddening tangents that the kid's mind swerved onto. Hopefully just a passing thought, and the kid would go on to something else. Please! Kallen never answered the kid anyway. He wanted to answer him now, though. To tell him to shut-up, damnit! Of all things, please don't talk about boys! Not about ... loving a boy .... Instead of shouting, Kallen just roughly jerked the soiled diaper out from between the kid's spindly, wide-spread, lifeless legs and wadded it up, then threw it viciously at the dispenser. The kid's shocked `Oohhh!" was lost to the sound of the hatch opening instantly to the man's unerring aim. Instant annihilation. Matter into energy. Just try to find a carbon residue. The pilot-turned bed-pan-emptier suddenly wished he could toss the kid through .... Of course he regretted the thought, as soon as it came to him, but ... couldn't the kid just ... please shut up ... just this once? "Oh shhhhi...." he muttered under his breath, seeing that in his fit of anger, he had just made his job even more onerous. He had forgotten to wipe the boy's bottom before jerking out the diaper, and the mess was soaking into the sheet. "I really mean it, sir. I know for a fact. I've read all about Boylove on the net, and I've even seen it. My dad loves boys." The kid spoke straight up into the air, his head laying flat upon the sheet. During the last visit he had asked Kallen to pull out the pillow. Sometimes he just preferred to lay flat. The kid could lift his head, but it was an effort. Too bad he couldn't lift anything else, Kallen thought. Then he could clean himself, instead of forcing the ship's pilot and sole crew member to come by the room every four hours to .... The man straightened up wearily. Disgusted at himself. Disgusted at this task. He slowly brushed his fingers across his brow, and breathed in deeply. Big mistake! The fecal odor hadn't been cleaned out of the air by the scrubbers yet. He blinked his eyes, and shook his head. Give it ten seconds, he thought, then back to the task. He stood still, his face blank, registering the stark condition of the room. There had been little enough warning that he would have a passenger this trip. First passenger on this tub in a long time. Traveler 109. Trevor ... something .... Age 11. Ward of the state. Bound for Olympus. That's how the kid appeared on the waybill. Didn't even have one of the suites, that a first class passenger would get. Child Protective Service had it's regulations to follow -- no first class accommodations provided for in the funding, yeah, but get the kid circumcised -- they certainly hadn't skimped on that expense! So, passenger 109 got cut, courtesy of CPS, and he got Travel class. At least he wasn't in stowage. Even worse than the surprise passenger, there had been no warning at all that the kid was an invalid! When Kallen found out, he demanded that a nurse accompany the boy. The consignment operator just laughed. He wasn't about to jeopardize a possible business relationship with a government agency. There was more than enough free time during a long voyage anyway, wasn't there? Anyway, if Kallen didn't want to take his consignments, as given, then there were plenty more ships waiting in line. Being a small-time ship- owner/operator had its advantages. Lining up cargo wasn't one of them. So, Kallen didn't object too strenuously. He intended to clear one of the first class suites for the boy, but there just hadn't been time, yet. Well, he hadn't taken time. So the kid was stuck here in this one stark room. Cargo still lined the walls, under stowage nets. What the heck, the kid didn't need all the room, as little as it was. He couldn't move. He lay on the bed day in, day out. Watched TV. Ate three meals a day. Messed himself. And talked! Jabbered incessantly. Now he wanted to talk about boylove?! All the hurt in Kallen welled up again. He closed his eyes against it. That did no good. Just focussed it. There was no way to escape what had happened. No way to bring Robbie back. Dearest Robbie. Dear, sweet Robbie. Beloved Robbie, who's heart and soul were beautiful beyond compare. Why did it have to happen to him? Where was the justice in it? Why not me, instead? Oh God, why not me!? If only .... Suddenly Kallen wanted nothing more than to just get out of this kid's room. To get back to his own cabin, back to the programming. Robbie. Robbie must not be forgotten. He would not be forgotten. Every dream, every wish, every bit of their reality together, had to be recreated. Out of Kallen's memory, onto permanent memory. Robbie would live again, he DID live again, in those simulations .... "Sir!?" the kid queried, his rasping voice sounding petulant. "Are you listening to me?" Petulant, Kallen thought. Righteously indignant, more like it. It might help if he could at least carry on a conversation with the kid. "Uh ... yeah, kid, I'm listening," he said, as he bent to start cleaning up the mess. He unceremoniously slipped a hand under each of the boy's thin thighs and lifted them up and back, over his stomach. Then he propped them there with his left forearm, letting the kid's legs dangle over, flopping about with even the slightest pressure against the boy's thighs. The kid had no muscle control at all, and no muscle tone either. He was like a limp rag. With his free hand, Kallen reached for a WetOne and started wiping the kid's bottom clean. His anus and perineum, all the way up around his ballsac, were a little red from the near constant presence of urine and excrement. He needed a good airing of his privates. Maybe tomorrow. Throwing the soiled towel towards the dispenser too, Kallen then reached for the diaper rash ointment, pumped out a dab onto his fingertip, and started smoothing it around dispassionately. The kid winced, uttering a meek little cry at the touch of the man's finger on his raw flesh. He could feel everything. He was totally paralyzed from the neck down, but retained full sensory perception. So even though this hurt, he didn't try to pull his bottom away. He simply couldn't. The silvery white cream contrasted with the very light, but distinctively olive-brown skin color of the boy's flesh. Kallen took another dab, and unceremoniously applied it all around the boy's circumcision scar. They had taken his foreskin some time ago. The scar had healed, but still looked red and sensitive. Just seemed the right thing to do, to put ointment on it, even though the kid never complained about it. He often grew hard, his little tool, with it's bluish-colored glans, stretching out to almost two inches in length in response to Kallen's touch, but that too he would always try to mask with a barrage of chatter. Kallen didn't care. He watched with a glazed-over gaze. After Robbie, no boy would ever interest him again. Robbie had always been the epitome of virile, joyous boyhood. His erections had meant something! He would swing his three inches of straining dick about like .... Kallen sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, his fingers poised cold and unfeeling around the kid's little erection. He shook off the memories, pursed his lips stoically, and opened his eyes again. Slowly he wiped the ointment on the sheet, then lifted the boy's bottom a bit more, to keep it away from the soiled fabric, and said, "Look, I'm going to have to roll you over on your sides, to get this sheet out. You know the drill." "Sure. Ok. But did you hear what I said? My Dad is a boylover. I've known it forever. I don't think he ever loved me, though." What to say to that, Kallen wondered. He heard the sadness in the kid's voice. How to tell him that it's hard to fall in love with a kid with mouse ears, buck teeth, a voice that would scratch paint off the walls, and one who never seemed to have heard that `silence is golden.' "You're his son, kid. Of course he loves you," he said, as he rolled the kid over onto his left side. He sucked in his breath, seeing that the bed sores were still not healing as fast as they should. But damnit, the kid always wanted to lay on his back.. The sores had to hurt like hell, but he still insisted on laying on his back. They looked much better than the open, bleeding wounds that he had when Kallen first started taking care of the boy, but still shocked the man every time he saw them. Changing the sheets was like a science now -- a quick, lifeless roll either way, holding the boy with one arm and a hand, a quick crumpling of the old sheet out of the way, to be replaced by the new one, then back over to the other side. The old sheet went sailing in the direction of the dispenser too. Putting the new diaper on the kid was no less a practiced art. Kallen did it now without even thinking about it, his face set grim and perhaps as lifeless as the boy's body. The kid's little legs had shriveled to practically skin and bones, from inactivity, and his bottom was so thin. Still a little padding there. His chest - his whole body -- looked fragile, too thin. More like a sickly 9 year old than an 11 year old. He wasn't getting any exercise at all. "If he loved me, why did he leave me when ... after The Crash?" The Crash ... why did I leave, BEFORE The Crash, Kallen screamed silently. If only I had been there ... Robbie! "Can you tell me that, sir?" he heard the kid plead, just in time to bring him back from the brink. Kallen had been off-planet at the time of The Crash. Perhaps that was one reason he had such nightmares, wondering how it had been for Robbie. "I ... I don't know your father, kid ... I ... got no idea why he left you. Maybe you're better off ...." Maybe you're better off not knowing, was Kallen's unspoken thought. And maybe you're better off with CPS, from the looks of you. Instead of saying it, he again rolled the kid over onto his right side, reached for the antiseptic ointment and clean cotton swabs, to start ministering to the bed sores. This was the last visit until tomorrow morning. As much as he hated all this, he wouldn't leave the kid overnight with the sores untended. "You know I had a friend one time, before the Crash. Did you know that?" "No, I didn't know that," Kallen responded disinterestedly. Another tangent? At least that helped. Please, no more talk about boylove. "Yeah, his name was Serge. My dad, and this other man, took Serge and me on a camping trip. This was before The Crash, of course. The whole time, the whole trip, Serge got all the attention. From both of them. I was always on the outside. One night we had a campfire ... ouch!" "Sorry, kid," Kallen intoned, realizing he had rubbed too hard cleaning that sore. "You know, you don't have to do that," the kid said. "They never cleaned them back on Portal. I got used to them." "That's ok, kid," Kallen said. "You shouldn't have to ... I ... don't want you bleeding on the sheets anymore." The pilot closed his eyes wearily. He didn't even know why he felt compelled to say such heartless things to the kid. Well, yes, he did know. Robbie .... "Well, anyway, Dad got Serge to do a little dance. I remember they were laughing and clapping and taking pictures of him. Telling him how beautiful he was. What a sexy little dancer he was. And the whole time I was sitting by myself on the other side of the campfire. No one even noticed me. You know, I never even felt jealous of Serge. He was a good friend. I cried then, though. I ... I wondered, why not me? Why not me? Why never, ever me?" "I know I'm not ... cute. My hair's not long and straight and blonde and shiny like Serge's. My eyes aren't so ... blue! Like his. Oh, I'm too skinny, too short ... I ... don't make men look twice, like Serge always did. I noticed it. You know, he pretended like he didn't notice it himself, but I think he did. He always wears his hair shoulder length, and it curls up, all around, right at the tips. He's pretty. It's the pretty boys like that that men fall in love with, I'm convinced of that from reading all about boylove ...." Blond hair, long, straight, shiny. Could be Robbie, Kallen thought sadly, as he listened to the kid talk. Was he right, though, that boylovers only fall in love with pretty boys? The kid hadn't exactly made that accusation, but was it true, anyway? Kallen continued to apply the antiseptic to the boy's sores. Absently he looked up at the boy's face. Those buck-teeth of his made him look like a little bunny rabbit, or a chipmunk ... like he was always grinning. His hair was a non-descript brownish, orangish ... some color or other ... and unkempt. Always unkempt from laying on the bed. Looked like that thin, soft, dry kind of hair that was hard to comb anyway, and lay about his head in unruly curls. Brown eyes. Okay, hazel. A small mouth, with little red lips that just couldn't cover those protruding teeth without effort, causing him to look like he was always breathing through his mouth.. A pixie-ish nose ... pixie-ish ears too, although they stuck out too much. Give those ears points, and you'd have your perfect example of a little elf. The kid sighed, then continued. "We were supposed to sleep in the same tent. That's the way I planned it, anyway. We were going to have a lot of fun, on that trip. But...every night during the campout, the two men would call Serge over to their tent, leaving me alone. I could hear them over there, whispering, laughing softly. I knew what they were doing. I could hear it. I could hear all of it. Serge told me, anyway. He liked to be fucked." Kallen's hand poised in midair. "He what?" he snapped out, suddenly interested. Robbie and he had often talked about making love, but this kid spoke of it so ... matter of factly! "Oh, he liked what they did. He told me all about sucking their dicks, and how they used to jack him off. And then both of them would fuck him." "I used to cry every night. Just thinking, why not me? What was wrong with me. They loved boys. They loved Serge. So ... why not me?" "You know what you're talking about, kid? Where'd you learn about stuff like that?" Kallen could hardly credit the kid with such a story. Was he just making this all up? "Oh, I know all about it. I get on the net. I know all about boylove and sex, what men and boys do together. I just wonder, why not with me? You know ...." Kallen stood up abruptly, and threw the last of the swabs at the voracious maw of the dispenser. He usually tried to ignore the kid's constant chatter, but this time, it was just too much. He just wanted to get away now, back to his own cabin, back to the computer, back to the simulations ... back to Robbie. "I'm going to leave you on your side, tonight, kid," he interrupted the boy's story. Quickly he stuffed the pillow beneath the kid's head. "Oh ... do you have to ... I mean ... can't you stay for a while ... we could play a game of ...." "Can't kid," Kallen muttered lowly, refusing to look the boy in his face. He quickly pulled the covers back up over the boy's body. "I have a schedule to keep." Again he noticed how unruly the boy's hair was, as it lay in patternless disarray on the sheet. Guiltily, Kallen realized he hadn't combed the boy's hair. Hadn't given him a proper bath either. Hadn't ever taken the time for that "Ummh, I don't like to be on my side, sir. I can't ...." "Why not, kid," Kallen asked impatiently. "You need to give those sores some air." "I-I-I can't s-s-see ...," the kid started to stutter, and the man could sense the fear in him, as his voice rose in pitch. "Look, we've been through this before. You and me are the only two on board this ship. There's nobody or no one here to hurt you. Just sleep!" "But I c-c-can't see behind me, then, in the night, you know ... if ...." "Look, kid. The ship is wired. I know everything that goes on, anywhere, on this ship. I keep tabs on you with the ship sensors. You'll be ok," he said as he hurried to the hatchway. He reached for the light switch, but the kid called out, "Please leave the light on. Ok?" Kallen paused, then slowly withdrew his hand from the switch. He looked down at the floor, pursing his lips in thought. Why was he being like this? Why couldn't he feel for the kid? Why didn't it matter to him? The kid had full audio control of the lights and the air, and the TV, right there from his bed. His request was for something more. Kallen knew it. The kid just wanted some sign that he cared. Damnit, he thought, hating himself. He breathed in deeply, and said, "Look kid. I know you've had a hard time. People didn't treat you right. I guess ... well, your own Dad didn't treat you right. But ... you just gotta ... you just have to be glad you're alive, kid. I knew a ... boy ... once, who ...." He just couldn't say it. He didn't know if he could ever say it. Not with this kid. Not with anybody. "Just ... be glad you're alive," he ended, slapping the door release tab sharply. The door swooshed open, and he swept out before the kid could answer him. -------------------------------- Kallen's own cabin was forward, but on the same deck as the kid's. He hurried there, went straight to the terminal, and sat down heavily. For the first time since the kid came onboard, the pilot activated the room monitors. Regs, state regs, said you had to have written permission to monitor a room like this, but screw the regs. The boy lay still on his side -- well, there was no doubt about that, no way for him to turn himself onto his back. He lay unmoving, lifeless, but for the slight rise and fall of the sheet over his arm and ribcage. Faintly, but clearly, Kallen heard the boy whimper. A soft, plaintive, high-pitched plea to the emptiness of his room. Kallen wondered guiltily if the kid had cried every night, like that. He reached out, wanting to turn down the audio, but then swirled the pad of his finger over the knob, hesitantly. Bitterly, he wondered what kept him from turning it off. The kid continued to cry quietly, no doubt knowing his tears would go unanswered. `Why not me,' Kallen heard in the low, weeping refrain. Or was that just his imagination. ---------------------------------- Robbie felt like his spirit was lifting from his body, as his orgasm hit again. It was Kallen's dick, rising again up inside his bowels, that shattered his very being! He felt the huge, hot shaft, hard yet so soft, splitting him apart inside, pressing into his prostate, forcing the spasms that shook him from head to toe in excruciating pleasure. Once again, for what seemed like the umpteenth time, he wondered if he would die of the sensations. He wondered if he should beg Kallen to withdraw. He wondered if he should just lift himself off of Kallen's lap, off of his lover's impaling penis. Yet once again, he knew he couldn't ask that. He couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that! He wanted Kallen in him, always! He could never deny himself this pleasure. Nor could he ever deny Kallen this moment either. Once again, the mini-orgasm subsided. Once again he lifted himself, allowing Kallen's dick to slide almost completely out of his hole, but never all the way! Again he started the fuck, pumping his little boy's body up and down on the man's cock, resuming the rhythm. He knew that in just moments, he would cum again, and then again, and again, and .... .... Robbie was stuck, in more ways than one. On the failsafe 10th pass through the loop, he reluctantly turned himself off, right in the middle of the fuck! Kallen had fallen asleep. With no one to direct the simulation flow, the noodlenode safety checks kicked in. Robbie really had no choice. He needed a human counterpart, to take on a truly realistic decision- making capability. Until then, without Kallen to decide otherwise, he could only return to the stasis of permanent storage. Kallen slept on, the nodes still in place within the helmet, but now silent. The simulations were good. Real good. Even with only one player, it was so lifelike. Gradually, the stimulation of the noodlenode now gone, his erection started to subside. ---------------------------------- In his aft passenger cabin, Traveler 109 slept too. Fitfully. There was no failsafe for him. Just memories of being hurt. Nightmare images of the cataclysm, when the space liner Invincible emerged from hyper-space transit, right in the crust of his planet. Or of other images, worse still, of the ever present certainty, even in his sleep, that he would forever be the boy not chosen. How ironic. No one would care, if he did it. No one had ever cared. But he couldn't turn himself off, even if he sometimes dreamed about it. ---------------------------- "Yuk!" the boy said, and started to push the bland paste back out of his mouth with his tongue. "Eat it, kid. It's all we got." Kallen said wearily. "But it ... tastes like ... sand or something," the boy sputtered, as he obediently tried to swallow the glob of gruel that Kallen had squeezed into his mouth. "Why ... can't I have real food?" "It's the same stuff I eat," the pilot answered as he dribbled water from another tube into the boy's open mouth. "It has all the nutrients that anyone needs. It just comes from a tube. I don't have time to cook up anything else," Kallen lied dispassionately, not even feeling guilty about it. The plain fact was, he wouldn't take the time. Food didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore, except the simulations. It was getting old -- the constant complaints from the kid, about the rations. "Every home has a food dispenser -- you mean you don't have one on this ship?" "It's broken, kid. So we're stuck with this." "You could cook it up yourself, couldn't you?" That hit too close to home. Kallen fumed about it a second, then spat out cruelly, bitterly, "If you hate this stuff so much, I could hook you up to an intravenous tube. Is that what you want?" In shock and panic at the threat, the kid suddenly blew out the remainder of the paste still in his mouth, splattering the both of them, and Kallen heard a loud and very messy-sounding spluttering from down beneath the sheet too. The look of anguish and fright in the boy's eyes, mixed with shame, told Kallen that he had gone too far, and in that same instant he hated himself for it. Such a stupid comment, probably triggering all kinds of bad memories of long days and months in the hospital, after The Crash. Quickly Kallen stood up, dropping the food paste bag to the floor. The stink from the boy's involuntary bowel movement started to fill the air. Kallen stepped back without thinking and felt the bag of food paste squish and explode under his foot. "God damnit," he muttered through clenched teeth, as he started wiping the boy's spew from his face. He looked down at the kid's midsection, and saw a brown stain starting to seep into the sheet. "Shit!" he cursed again, feeling the anger course through him, gathering strength from all the hours and days of unwanted work tending this kid, from the maddening need to spend time here instead of with Robbie. Anger building upon anger, simultaneously knowing how badly he was acting, yet wanting to cry out that it was too much. He couldn't take this any longer. He didn't want to live like this, without .... He jerked down the sheet and saw that the kid had really exploded his diahretic mess out the sides of the diaper. Furiously, he bent to the task. The boy had to be cleaned. Again! "I ... I didn't mean ..." the boy started to rasp out an apology. "Shut up, kid!" Kallen yelled out loudly, angrily, knowing that the kid always felt the need to chatter in these situations. That he had his pride too. A wounded pride that he couldn't do anything to live up to. But couldn't the kid just be quiet this once? Couldn't he sense the man's anger? Kallen looked up at the boy's face, and saw him catch his breath, his upper lip sliding up over those two protruding front teeth. "Wipe that silly grin off your face, for once!" Kallen snapped again, with a harshness intended to wound. "Isn't it enough that I have to take care of you day after day, clean up after you? Do you have to talk all the time? Can't you wipe that grin off ..." The pilot froze, in abject horror, finally hearing himself. Hearing the vile words spewing out of his own mouth! He suddenly felt a cold chill, his body surrendering to an emptiness of spirit like none other he had ever felt. Like the very blood in his veins had suddenly shrunk back into a cold heart that had forgotten all concept of mercy and good and compassion. Then he felt a flash of searing heat, felt the blood rising in him again, flushing him with visible evidence of his shame. There was suddenly a raucous, clanging, blaring cacophony of sounds inside his head, drowning out all his senses but one. He didn't feel the wet cloth in his hand. He could no longer hear the pervasive sound of the ships engines vibrating through the hull. He couldn't even taste the bile rising into his mouth. In horror, his eyes became like magnifying glasses, focussing in on one little boy's upturned face. The kid was even now trying to compress his lips together, over the protrusion of his buck teeth. Even now, he tried so mightily to comply with the man's order! His lips trembled visibly, from both the effort and the fear that he was trying to overcome. The boy's body was paralyzed. He could hardly move his head. He stared straight up to the ceiling, concentrating all of his remaining bodily strength in an attempt to obey the unthinking and cruel commands of the only other person in his world right now. Tears were starting to stream from those eyes, falling off to both sides of his head, and pooling within those sunken sockets. He was struggling to close his mouth, but Kallen could see that he was beginning instead to sob uncontrollably. The ringing in the pilot's ears suddenly vanished. All his sense flooded in upon him now. He felt the cold of the boy's bare thigh as he grazed his fingertips across it. He smelled the fecal odor, but knew that it was truly the scent of the boy's fear. He tasted his own blood, realizing that he was biting his own bottom lip, feeling every muscle in his body tensed against the horror of what he had done, waiting for his feeble brain to order them into action, to do something to correct this awful sin. He saw such anguish and complete helplessness and stark fear in the boy's face. He heard the boy's choked, halting breath, as he still tried to stifle his desperate sobs. "I ... I'm ... s-s-s-so s-s-sorry, sir," the boy struggled to speak. "I know I ... I'm s-s-so m-m-much trouble ... and," his chest cavity shuddered with the effort to draw in air against the need to sob and cry out in his anguish. "I know, s-s-sir, that I'm was b-b-bad to do that. I really will ...." Kallen listened in his own despair, as the boy tried to apologize. The pilot had known all along, but could no longer ever again ignore, how utterly vile his attitude and actions had been towards this little boy. As the boy spoke, he felt his own tears welling up. For once they weren't tears of loss, of grief over a past that could never be changed. These were not tears of omission. These were tears of commission. Tears of a great wrong that he had willfully inflicted. The past was done. There could be no turning back. There could be no reliving. Dear Robbie .... There was a here and now. There was a present, and a future, for this little boy in his care. For .... The kid. The boy. Traveler 109. A nameless waif. "I really will ... try t-t-to be better, sir ... I w-w-won't talk s-s-so much, I promise, and .... No, kid! Kallen wanted to call out to him. I'm the one who has to try better. I have some changes to make. None of this is your fault, ki .... In a panic, Kallen suddenly couldn't bring himself to say that word again. Kid. He wasn't just another boy! He was THE BOY right now, right here. With a name all his own. An identity all his own. The pilot flashed through his memories, trying desperately to remember the boy's name. It was on the manifest. Traveler 109 ... had a name ... he wasn't just `the kid' ... but damn! The name wouldn't come. It was just there, on the tip of his tongue, but .... "Y-y-you'll see, sir, I really d-d-do like that food. There's no problem at all, with that. I'll d-d-do better for you, I really will, you'l ....." "Ki ... uh, t-travele .... Hey little Trav! I'm so sorry!" Kallen's tongue stumbled out a name, a nickname, any name! Some sign that he cared! He was suddenly so desperate to still the boy's unneeded plea, knowing that it was he, instead, who should plea for forgiveness. He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding his hands up, palms forward, signaling to the boy that he should calm down. He felt the boy's lifeless arm just touching his thigh. Leaning forward, he reached out and propped himself with one arm across the little kid's chest, upon the mattress. With the other he touched the boy's brow lightly, and started smoothing his hair back. He brought his face over the boy's, and looked down into his eyes. The little guy's brow was furrowed, wondering, but still afraid. Such fear was the harshest indictment ever upon Kallen's record, and he knew it!. "Trav ... Traveler one-oh ... Trav," he spoke softly, soothingly. "I'm the one who's sorry, ki ... Trav. You don't have to be sorry for anything. I was totally wrong to blow up like that. And yeah, at the moment, I was really frustrated and angry, but I had no right to say what I did." The boy continued to look up at him, questioning, not yet understanding. At least some of the fear was gone from his eyes. Kallen quickly tugged the sheet up from under the mattress edge, bunched the loosened fabric in his hand and gently dabbed at the wetness around the boy's eyes. Kallen continued. "I know. I know, you have no reason to believe me right now, but I'm going to do better. Guaranteed. You'll see." He waited awkwardly for the kid to say something, but though the tears stopped streaming, and his lips stopped their trembling, the boy just looked up at him, still looking hurt. His eyes started to close to mere slits, as if it hurt him to keep them open. He had managed to close his lips too, and held them compressed tightly over the protruding front teeth. Well, at least one of us has some self-control, Kallen thought, hating himself all the more. He searched for something to say, but his mind was empty. Too much time spent feeling sorry for himself, he knew. Had he forgotten completely how to feel for another? "I'll ... uh ... I'll just clean up here, little ... Traveler." The boy didn't answer still. He just lay there. Kallen couldn't blame the kid. The pilot had given the kid nothing. No reason to answer. Just a so far very empty promise. The man stood, and busied himself cleaning the boy, changing the diaper. For the first time, the kid said nary a word. Perhaps he just didn't care anymore. Kallen knew he was to blame for that too. Who could blame the kid, if he had lost all respect for a man who could act like Kallen did. "Now ... uh ... how about it, Trav," Kallen said, after completing the diaper change. "Are you still hungry for some of this delicious ... paste?" The joke fell flat into a continuing silence. He waited, but the boy just lay there, breathing steadily now, slowly, calmly. The tears had stopped, and he had turned his head a bit to the side, as if not wanting to see the man directly in his line of vision. "Trav," Kallen almost whispered this time, almost hesitant to break the prolonged silence, "could I ... do you ...." "You don't even know my name, do you?" the boy said finally, his voice drained of all emotion. Kallen couldn't answer. He just sat back down on the edge of the bed, wearily, feeling the shame. He wanted to answer, to explain. There was a reason he didn't know the kid's name. There really was a ... reason. But not good enough, he knew. Now he couldn't look at the boy's face. He just looked down at the blank white sheet beside the boy's shoulder. "You called me Trav. My name's Trevor. Trev, not Trav. Serge used to call me Trev. You didn't ... even ... know ... my ... name." The boy measured the sentence, letting the words drop heavily. Not a question this time. A statement. Indictment and conviction, all at once. Silence again. The kid turned his head back up, and opened his eyes, to look into Kallen's face. The man felt himself breathing, faintly. He felt his own lips trembling now. He lifted his eyes, to stare off into space blindly, at the wall, at the bedside table, at anything ... except into the boy's eyes. Trevor waited, then finally knowing the answer, almost whispered, "I thought so. Now, I'm feeling really tired. I'd just like to sleep. Could you leave, please?" Kallen took the blow, knowing that he deserved to be dismissed, just like that. That was exactly what he had earned from this boy. He stood, took a towel and covered the soiled area on the sheet with it, then laid the boy down upon it. Then he stooped to clean the splattered food from the floor, and arose to look once more upon his charge, feeling at a loss for what he should do next. Trevor had closed his eyes now, and indeed looked like he was sleeping. Kallen backed towards the door and silently slipped out of the room. ----------------------------- Kallen turned and leaned his forehead against the cold metal of the door, feeling drawn back into the boy's room, feeling the need to renew his apology, and then to apologize again, and again ... yet knowing that a mere apology wasn't enough ... wondering what in creation would ever be enough. He had actually hurt a boy! Out of his own grief, he had struck out at a helpless little invalid boy. Such a big man he was! Pilot of a starship! Tough guy, who lashed out at a little boy. So, what could he do about it? How would he make it up to the k .... Even with his head down, and his eyes closed, the flashing of the hallway warning lights seeped into his consciousness. He opened his eyes. A yellow alert. Ship's sensors had detected some small threat. Probably onboard. This old bucket was falling apart. Quickly he stepped down the corridor to the first wall monitor. There it was on the ship's diagram. The problem. That damned pressure sensor in the Evac Chamber. It was registering false again. A quick check showed that both doors to the chamber had tight seals. He had flooded the chamber when he reentered from the last hull repair, so there was no reason for the sensor to read a vacuum. Kallen cancelled the yellow alert and recycled the sensor. Now it showed full pressure. He mentally filed the problem away - something to check it out tomorrow. His thoughts returned to the ki ... damnit! To Trevor! The boy had a name! He walked to his cabin, and immediately brought up the manifest. Traveler 109, Trevor Seaman. Enroute to the CPS Children's Home on Olympus. No doubt enroute to a lifetime of nameless neglect. No doubt the kid knew it too, and ... here, Kallen hadn't even made the slightest effort to treat him like an individual. Kallen felt drained. Too weary to think anymore. He saw the noodlenode just laying there beside his bed, and almost without conscious direction, he got up and walked over to the bed, sat down on the edge, picked up the noodlenode and started to punch in a scenario. One of those he hadn't yet tested. How about, where Robbie and he were out on the patio, and there were two other people there, but Robbie and he didn't care, they just .... He let the helmet fall back onto the bedside table. Almost clinically he examined his feelings. Why all of a sudden, did he feel so lifeless? Why for the first time, did the thought of reliving a memory of being with Robbie leave him emotionless? Why all of a sudden did the thought of Robbie also make him think of Trevor? He got up, walked to the door and out into the corridor. Now that the yellow alert was off, the corridors looked as empty as they indeed were -- subdued light interrupted the darkness in small arcs from floor and ceiling outlets. He headed off aimlessly, unthinkingly, not even registering the turns or intersections, till finally he found himself standing still in the observation bubble, staring unseeingly out into deep space. The once white, but now battered and scarred panels of the ship's hull dropped away at his feet, and swept away on all sides, the smooth surface punctured by vents and pimpled with jets here and there. Kallen didn't even notice. Finally it dawned on him, what he was looking at. Out there, so far away ... and getting father away with every passing moment. Such a platitude, but true nevertheless. He was looking at his past. He was looking at Robbie. At Portal. At The Crash. At the good times before it, and the very bad times after. What do they say, about grief? First comes denial. Then anger. Then deal-making, and acceptance, and .... Well, something like that. So where did that place him now? He'd been looking back, into the past, for a long time now. Which meant, back at Robbie. His very existence, these last months, had been all about looking back, preserving the memories ... making sure that Robbie would always be remembered. Surely that was a good thing! But then, why did he feel so miserable now? Why did he feel like .... Of course it was all about how he had treated Trevor. Was the past something he had to get over, in order simply to lead a civil life, in order to show the most common of courtesy, the most basic form of compassion? Surely not! What did it take away from Robbie, from the memory of Robbie, to show just a little compassion for that little boy laying all alone in his cabin? Damnit, whether he was in denial, or anger, or acceptance -- none of that mattered. Whether Trevor was a boy, didn't matter. That Trevor needed him, that Trevor needed some care, some sincere concern -- that's all that mattered right now. Kallen turned back and stepped out of the viewport, and headed slowly back to his cabin. This was the time of evening he had reserved for work on the noodlenode simulations, but now he wondered if he had it in him to do that tonight. He stepped inside to his suite and stopped. Now what? Sleep? Read? Think? He was tired of thinking. He knew the answers anyway. Pretty simple. He'd been a heel. He had hurt a little boy. Now he would have to change all that. He shambled lazily over to his console, and flopped down into the cushioned chair. Leaning back, and swiveling sideways to the desk, he lifted his legs up and propped them on the edge. Idly he reached out with his right hand and flicked on the room monitor for the kid. For Trevor, damnit! The kid had a name! Use it! Kallen's blood ran cold all of a sudden. He dropped his feet to the floor, and sat upright - Trevor wasn't asleep anymore. Maybe he had been feigning sleep after he asked Kallen to leave. Now he was just laying there on his back, looking up at the ceiling, the lights on ... and crying again. The soft, halting sobs, the boy's heaving chest, the tear-stained redness down the side of his face ... oh God! Was he crying out of fear? Loneliness? Hurt? Kallen suddenly knew exactly how he was going to spend this evening. He stood quickly, and looked about the cabin, considering what he would need. What the boy ... what Trevor would need. A couple of heavy towels, some lotion and body wash from the bathroom .... and ... dang! He had forgotten all about the goodies stashed away in his locker. There were a couple of cokes hidden down in there - he rummaged around and fished them out triumphantly. Looking around, he noted for the first time on this trip that his kitchen was fully stocked. Probably lots more goodies there. Things a little boy would like a little better than food paste from a tube. Kallen waited outside Trevor's door after buzzing to get in. The boy made him wait a bit longer than normal. When the door swooshed open, he saw that Trevor had stifled his sobs, but looked over at him in surprise. Never before had he returned here, after the suppertime visit. Of course the room lights were still on. A quick check of the cabin logs had shown that Trevor had never turned the lights off since coming on board. The first night, when Kallen had turned them off upon leaving, Trevor had ordered them back on as soon as Kallen was gone. "May I come in?" Kallen asked. Another first. In the past, he had never asked for permission. He waited, one foot just inside the portal, but the boy just slowly turned his head away. Not the best of starts, Kallen thought, but then, there were a lot of wrongs to make up for. He stepped quietly inside and let the door close behind him. "I was ... uh ... I finished my rounds, and uh, got bored, and decided, why not come by ... see how things are ... going." Kallen finished lamely, and mentally kicked himself. So stupid to lie like that. Trevor slowly turned his head back, and closed his tear-laden eyelids to mere slits, and furrowed his brow. His mouth turned up at one corner, as if to say, 'yeah right.' Such a little boy, Kallen thought, but at this moment, in this situation, he felt like their roles were suddenly reversed. Trevor had so many problems. He wasn't all that good looking. He was paralyzed. None of that mattered now - he had right on his side. Both of them knew who was the supplicant here. Which of them commanded dignity. Which of the two commanded respect. It dawned on him how, in all the boy's ramblings, on a 100 different subjects, he had never even once said an unkind word about anyone or anything. Amazing! He lay here immobile, victim of a horrible calamity, abandoned by his own Dad, whom he still expressed love for, ward of an uncaring or overworked state bureaucracy, and he still maintained a cheerful, wonder filled outlook on everything. He had endured endless humiliation at Kallen's own hands. And yes, some verbal abuse. Even some less than gentle, if not abusive physical treatment. Yet the worst he had ever offered, in return, was a request that he be left alone to sleep. "I, uh ... look! I found some cokes buried in my storage locker. We can snap 'em open a little later, if you want." Trevor raised his eyebrows. At least a little sign of interest! Kallen thought. He grasped at that opening, and suddenly found himself wanting to fill the room with cheer and talk, and movement. Awkwardly, he stepped forward and deposited the cokes on the bedside table. Trevor followed his every motion with his eyes. "Hey, I was thinking, Trevor, that maybe you'd like a bath," he said enthusiastically, holding up the towels and bath oil. The boy wrinkled his brow again, silently questioning. "Yeah, you haven't lived till you've had a low-grav bath. Not many tugs this size have them, but you're in luck," he continued. "Tommie! Bath time." Instantly he felt warm air start to flow into the room, raising the temperature so there would be no chill when the bath was done. "Who's Tommie?" Trevor said, finally breaking his silence. "Ah, that's what I call the computer. He's a friend of mine. He can be your friend too, if you want. He's just a little guy, like you." "Computers aren't little boys," Trevor muttered in disgust. Kallen could see he was still bitter over what had happened earlier. He didn't blame the boy. "Well, this one is. That's the way I think of him, anyway. Better get to know him -- he knows you well enough already! Can't hide anything from the ship's computer, after all. If you so much as fart, Tommie knows about it." "I don't ever...." Trevor started to object, then sullenly turned his head away from the man. I t looked like he was blushing. Damn, Kallen thought, another reminder that he's like a helpless vegetable laying there, not even in control of his bodily functions. Kallen knew he had to be more careful in what he said. The boy had enough cause for humiliation -- no need to rub it in. "Look, Trev, there's one ...." "I thought it was Trav," the boy interrupted him, sounding just as bitter as before. Kallen tried to take a more formal stance beside the boy's bed, his hands clasped in front of him, his shoulders back, but allowing himself to look down at Trevor. "Well, yes," he said contritely, "ah, I did call you Trav. I apologize for that, Trevor. I really did know your name was Trevor, it's just that ... well ... I ... oh, no excuses -- I blew it. But I didn't mean it as an insult or anything -- I was just thinking in my head about calling you the Little Traveler, and , well, `Trav' just popped into my head. I tend to give nicknames to people ... and computers, as you can see, and ... well ... forgive me?" Trevor slowly turned his head back towards Kallen. He looked up at him sternly. "Little Traveler, huh? You really thought of that? About me?" "Uh .... yeah!" Kallen hastened to answer, seeing another tiny glimmer of real interest from the boy. He wasn't quite sure what he had said right, but it seemed that he had. "Alright, I forgive you," Trevor intoned solemnly. Those words, coming so seriously from the little boy, would have been comical to Kallen normally, but somehow he just couldn't take it that way, right now. Trevor took this very seriously, indeed. Kallen realized he had better do the same. "Thank you." Neither of them spoke for a moment. Trevor seemed to nod his acceptance of the man's apology. "Well, as I said, there is one thing about this bath. I'll have to take it with you, since you're ... well, since you're paralyzed," the pilot said. "We'll take it together?" Trevor asked, his eyes suddenly wide in surprise. "Sure, I figure after five days underway, we both stink. We just don't notice it!" Kallen actually took a shower every night. At least he got a little smidgen of a grin from Trevor. "You don't mind, do you? It's just us guys." "No, it'll be ok," Trevor answered nonchalantly, quickly masking any humor he felt. "Kewl. Tommie has everything nice and warm for us, so ... let's get to it," Kallen said, as he started undressing. "Well, you're already ready. So, I guess it's just me." He noticed the boy's eyes on him as he pried his shoes off, shucked his shirt, then quickly undid his pants and let them fall to the floor too. Some men might become a little self-conscious, after spending most of their time isolated, piloting an inter-stellar scow. Kallen never fell prey to the lazy routine, however. He had always kept himself in good shape, and didn't mind letting others see it, much less a boy. Even this boy. Robbie had always loved to see his lover naked, standing tall, all 6'2" of him. His sandy brown hair was cut rather short, and elsewhere on his body was soft and light, even around his penis. He stayed in good shape with exercise, but had never been a body-builder. He was long and slim, in every way, as Robbie used to say. His dick swayed loose now, all 5 inches of it soft. It would grow to a slim 8 inches when hard. Just the right thickness for fucking boys, although he would never be able to get all of his meat inside a boy. His balls hung full and heavy, and lifted his flaccid, hooded tool out. Trevor looked suddenly flushed, and averted his gaze. Perhaps embarrassed at seeing him nude, Kallen guessed. He reached out and pulled the sheets down the boy's body, then bent to undo the diaper. Trevor let out a little gasp, and started to say something, then stifled it. Right on cue, Kallen thought, as if from habit. But this time the boy was still too hurt or angry to talk. He just turned his head away again. Kallen pulled the tabs and drew the diaper flap down, and immediately understood the source of the boy's sudden blush. His little penis was sticking up, straight as an arrow, and red as the boy's cheeks, around the circumcision scar. The little bare glans was inflamed too. The two inch shaft pulsated in time with the boy's heartbeat, lifting itself even more from off the plane of his hairless pubic mound. His ballsac was drawn up tight, as if his testicles too were hiding in embarrassment. Kallen felt the boy's hurt, for the first time since he came on board. Felt the humiliation, at having his privacy invaded at a moment's notice, time and again. Suddenly he felt the need to do just as Trevor had always done, to say something, anything, to distract attention from the obvious .... "You ... you're going to like those cokes, Trev. Maybe when we get out of the bath, or ... or tomorrow, maybe, we can pop the tabs. They'll chill up in a sec, and go down ice-cold. I always love a cold coke, how about you? You know, back in my schooldays, we used to collect those tabs and .... His words trailed off lamely, as he saw that Trevor still held his head turned away. "Well, enough of that," he finished quietly. "How about I shut up and get us into the bath?" He quickly shifted around the end of the bed, and walked to the bathroom door. It opened on his approach. He tossed the towels and the bath soap on a shelf next to the tub, then turned back. Now, what's the best way to pick up a boy who is paralyzed from the neck down, Kallen wondered. Up till now, Trevor had lain in bed continuously. There had been no need to lift him off. He would be like a limp rag. His head would have to be supported, above all. Kallen approached the bed hesitantly, rubbing his hands together. "Ok, Trevor, let me ... just slip my hand under your shoulder here, and ... uh, behind you neck,' he said, bending low over his charge. Trevor looked up at him with rounded eyes, looking almost fearful. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle," Kallen said soothingly. With one hand he lifted the boy's shoulder, and slipped the other beneath. Then he reached with his other arm across Trevor's tummy, and down on the other side, to get beneath his buttocks, and just rolled the boy towards him, lifting, bringing him smoothly to his chest. In one easy motion, he clasped the boy's limp body to his own, and laid the boy's head on his shoulder. He felt Trevor's hot breath against his neck, and felt his smooth, soft and warm flesh pressed against his muscular body. He cupped the boy's bottom in his hand. "Ok Little Travele ...." "Oh, you're going to insist on calling me that?" Trevor interrupted. Oddly enough he didn't sound really all that angry about it. "Dang, I'm sorry. Me and my nicknames. I ... don't know why I always do that, Trevor." "That's ok," Trevor sounded easily resigned to it, although unemotional. "You can call me that. Nobody ever gave me a nickname before." "Oh! Well, then, Trav you are! My Little Traveler." Kallen thought he felt the boy sigh against his neck - a satisfied sort of exhale. He guessed that for once he had said just the right thing. That perhaps the boy had wanted him to say that all along. For the first time, he felt like he had connected with Trevor on a personal level. It felt good. Real good. It came as something of a surprise to him, but he realized that suddenly it mattered a great deal to him how Trav felt. He clasped the boy to him a little tighter, and felt the warmth flowing between them. This boy needed to be cherished a bit. "You're so light ... Trav. I better hold you tight, or you're going to float away in the bath." "Really?" the boy responded so quickly, and with such tension in his voice, that Kallen realized immediately that he had touched another raw nerve. He could feel the quickened breath on his neck, as if Trav were suddenly very frightened. It was just the opposite of what he had intended. "Not really, Little Traveler," he hastened to say. "I won't let you out of my arms anyway." He strode into the bathroom and turned around, facing away from the bath, so that Trav could see it. "Ok, now, here's the bath chamber." He hitched the boy up a bit, so that he could more easily look over the man's shoulder. "See, it's just a small enclosed pool. When we get in, I'll seal the door, and we'll go to low grav. You'll feel even lighter than you do now. We'll retain just enough gravity to keep the water from floating around -- it's really relaxing! Just wait till I start the jets ...." "No ... no ... d-d-don't turn on ... a-any jets, ok?" "Well ... ok. But why not, it really feels ...." Trav interrupted again, sounding both frightened and actually indignant. "Look, back on Portal, they gave me a bath one time, and this ... worker left me there ... and I started slipping down, and I felt these jets pushing me ... and ...." "Oh God," Kallen exclaimed. "And you couldn't resist it. Thank goodness you didn't dr ... well look, Little Traveler, that's not going to happen this time, for sure. I won't let you go. Not once. Just hold on to ... dang! Just don't worry, I'll be holding onto you the whole time. OK?" "Oh ... o-ok ... but, not jets, ok?" "Sure, no jets. Tommie," Kallen called out as he turned back towards the bath stall. "Open the bath." The transparent door to the stall suddenly popped open with a hiss, as the seal released. Kallen had his hands full, but leaned forward and caught his finger tips against the door frame and pulled it all the way open, then stepped into the oval tub. His bare feet sank a fraction of an inch into the pliant, but rather firm and smooth surface. It was nicely warm to the touch. He reached back around the door frame for the bath oil, then said, "Tommie. Seal the door." His voice seemed to reverberate within the confines of the bath chamber. The sides and roof were all transparent plexi. It looked like a standard bath, but he knew better. He had a couple of surprises in hand for Trav, and smiled in anticipation. With an audible hiss of air into the seal tubes, the door shut and locked into place. "Tommie, start the bath. No jets," he said, as he slowly, cautiously started to sit down in the tub. Trav's legs slipped to the sides of the man's legs as he bent, and dangled free, until they touched the bottom of the tub. Kallen felt the awkwardness of the boy's position, halfway down, so he carefully repositioned the boy in his arms, turning him so that he could cradle him like a little baby. One look at Trav's face, and he knew the boy was still worried. It was so odd to see, since the boy's limp and lifeless limbs seemed totally relaxed -- well, he realized, of course they would feel that way! Water, heated to perfection, started to spill into the tub from the jet spouts, but without any force. "Here we go!" Kallen smiled down at the boy, as he felt the chamber transition almost immediately to low grav. Suddenly, he felt like floating, like weights had been lifted from every part of his body. Still there was enough force to keep him firmly ensconced against the warm sides of the tub. "Feel it?" he asked, looking down at Trav again. If anything, the boy was even more alarmed, his breathing visibly faster, his eyes wide with fear. Kallen held him a bit more firmly, feeling the warmth of the boy's body against his arms. His left hand cradled Trav's head, his arm behind the boy's shoulder. With his right he pulled Trav's midsection closer, still cupping his bottom. "Look, Trav, you really don't need to be afraid. I'll hold you." "Easy for you to say. You don't know what it's like to almost drown." Trav's eyes flitted about, never settling on anything, much less Kallen's gaze. "Well, actually, I do." "You do?" Trav looked up at him questioningly. "Oh yeah! You know, I took a trip back to Earth one time." "You did?" Kallen was pleased. He figured if he could keep Trav's mind occupied, he would loosen up a bit, and not be so afraid. "Yeah! I was about 18. Not much older than you. Probably the most adventurous thing I ever did -- I had saved up for years, and my parents pitched in. You know, you go down there, you don't have all the things we take for granted nowadays. Well, I joined a bunch of kids going down there for the world tour. Now, one of the things we did, was take a canoeing trip down the Rio Grande River. You ever heard of it?" "No." "Well, it's ah ... well, it's really wild there still. The river is like bounded on both sides by steep canyon walls for much of the way, and there are waterfalls and rapids all along it. The water's generally kind of muddy, swift flowing much of the way, and you hear those waterfalls for miles away, echoing against the canyon walls. Well, I thought I was a pretty brave kid. But man, I was just scared shi ... I mean, I'd hear the roar of those rapids ahead, and just about pee in my ... well, one time going down one of the really steep rapids, our canoe overturned, and I thought I was a goner. I just about lost it, right there. The others pulled me out ok. What made it worse, during the whole time, was that everyone else just thought it was so much fun. I couldn't tell anyone that I was scared to death." Kallen shivered involuntarily, "Still hurts, to think about that time." "It does?" "Yeah, no one likes to think they're a coward. And I don't really think I am, but ... well, I guess there's just some things that each person is afraid of." "So ... so I guess you do understand how I feel in this bath." Trav sounded surprised. "Yep, that's why I'm going to hold you close and take care of you the whole time. We'll make it good. You know, even on that trip down the river, there was one moment, one brief moment, when I was just about as happy as I'd ever been." "Oh?" "Yeah, we had come to this place along the river, where the canyon wall retreated away from the river a bit, and there was a wide flat sandy beach, a couple of hundred feet wide on the south shore. Lots of driftwood had washed up there, and here and there were clumps of tall grass and reeds, and a couple of trees that had withstood the floods through the years. The river flowed real calm along that stretch. It was far away from any rapids, so the rumble and roar that scared me so much was all forgotten for a while. There was a cloudless blue sky above, it was warm there, but not real hot, with a breeze floating off the river waves. The grass was waving in the wind. Oh man, it was so peaceful. Well, while the others just lazed around on the beach by the canoes, I wandered off barefoot, looking around. You'll never guess what I found." "What?" "About fifty feet in from the bank of the river, surrounded by tall grass, I found a pool, just about the size of this tub. Just about this deep too. And I'm telling you, the water was so clear that I could see each grain of sand down in the bottom of it, maybe a foot deep. I dipped a toe into it, and it was hot! I had found a hot spring! Right on the shore of the Rio Grande. Well, it didn't take long for me to get out of my clothes, and down into that pool, and I've never felt anything so wonderful in my life. I just luxuriated in it. Surrounded by the tall grass, with just a whisper of a breeze rustling their tops, sitting in that crystal clear warm water, soft white sand molding to my body, letting me sink into it, looking up at a crystal clear blue sky. I'm here to tell you, it was like magic. A moment of magic, in my lifetime." "Sure sounds like it." "It was. I remember it was so quiet and peaceful, that I almost fell asleep. But when I opened my eyes, far up in that clear sky, I saw a bunch of white sea gulls or swans or something, flying high up, in that V formation that birds use. For a moment I wondered where they were going. But then I thought, I didn't care. There was no place on Earth, no place even in the universe, that I'd rather be than right there in that pool." "Wish I could see it." "Well ... you can, Little Traveler." "I can? How?" "Well, I can create magic moments right here, right now. Just for the two of us. All you gotta do is lay your had back against my arm, and close your eyes, and imagine that you're there, in that pool, hidden in the reeds along the shore of the mighty Rio Grande ... want to try?" "Oh ... ok," Trav said, looking up at Kallen with a wondering look, one that just thrilled Kallen, because he knew he had connected again with the boy, knew that he had made him forget his fears for just a while, at least. He felt the boy's trust too, watching him close his eyes, and lay his head back against his protector's arm. "Tommie. Memories. Rio Grande. Spring." Kallen intoned quietly. In an instant, the enclosed tub, just a fixture within a space-going mass of steel and cargo, was seemingly transported to another time and place. The warm water, pouring silently into the tub through evenly spaced vents, suddenly started to seep up through sparkling clean granules of sand. The humid air inside the chamber suddenly transformed into the life-giving, clean and wind-swept air of Mother Earth. The always present background noise of the engines was replaced by the sound of the breeze brushing the grass stems one against another, a hushed, whispering symphony. "You can open your eyes now, Little Traveler." Trav opened them, and blinked in surprise. His mouth fell open. "I ... how did you ... do this?" he managed to whisper, his voice so high with wonder. "Oh, it's just ... a little bit of magic -- well, ok, a couple of tera-bytes of computing power, and a little help from Tommie, and, well -- what do you think?" "It's just like you described it." "Yeah." They both remained silent for a while, just soaking in the warmth, breathing in the beauty. Kallen watched Trav's eyes, feeling a thrill that he hadn't expected, to be sharing this with the little boy. "You know, Trav," Kallen finally broke the silence. "I never showed the others, that day. I couldn't bear to share with them that magical place that I had found. They didn't understand my fears. I couldn't imagine that they would ever understand how I felt about finding the little place of peace, on that terrible trip. I've never even shown this to anyone since. Not even ... well, I just ... never did." "But you showed it to me," Trav looked at him again, his eyes narrowing again, but not like earlier in the day, with hurt. Kallen could see the boy's question in his gaze. "I don't know. I think I wanted to show you, Trav, because you'll understand. I know you understand what it's like to be all alone. What it's like to be left out. How it feels to be ... afraid ...," Kallen let his words trail off, as Trav closed his eyes. A few tears formed in the boys eyes, and Kallen felt him breathe deeply. He felt the weight of the boy's head rest back even more, in the crook of his arm, as if suddenly Trav had released all his tensions, and given himself to the man, for safe-keeping. It was at that moment, knowing that he had given just a bit of his private magic to Trav, knowing that the boy was granting him at least a bit of forgiveness, by relaxing into his arms, that Kallen felt more like a man than any moment in his entire life. He felt his penis hardening, rising between his flesh and Trav's. He felt his shaft hot against the boy's bottom, his swelling glans pressing up and peeking out beyond Trav's leg. He didn't worry that the boy might feel his manhood. It just seemed so right. This was what being a man was all about! He started to ladle warm water onto Trav's tummy, then up onto his chest and arms, letting it trickle back down into the spring-fed pool. He reached for the bath soap and poured some onto the large sponge sitting on the verge of the pool, then started to slowly and gently wash the boy with it. Trav's legs rested partway out of the water, as he sat in Kallen's lap, so Kallen washed them too. Then his shoulders and his neck, treating every exposed part of the boy's body to the soothing touch of the soft, soapy sponge. Finally, he dropped the sponge into the pool, took a bit of the bath oil on the tips of his fingers, and delicately, ever so gently applied it to Trav's little penis and balls, and down in the crease between his pubis and his thighs, down along his perineum, and down beneath the water to dip into the rim of his crinkled little anus. Trav remained soft. He could feel, by the weight of the boy's head, that Trav was fast drifting into sleep. Ever so slowly, Kallen let himself slip down a bit more into the pool, feeling the warmth of the sand nestling around his thighs and his bottom. He rested his shoulders against the grassy bank. Carefully, he straightened Trav's legs, pushing then down along his own, then nudged the boy over onto his stomach, against Kallen's belly. In all the movement, his erection sprang up between their bodies, and he felt his hard shaft pressing into Trav's own soft penis. His foreskin had stretched tautly, and slipped down over the flared rim of his glans, leaving it sensitive and exposed to even the slightest of motion between their two bodies. It felt so strange, to be so aroused, because he had no sense that this moment was charged with anything overtly sexual. Yet while caressing Trav's body, while soothing him, while gently laving him with the warm water, cleansing and refreshing him, trying to lift the boy's spirits, it somehow seemed so natural to him to feel the familiar rising tension in his loins that would come from making love with a boy. He wasn't making love to Trav ... or was he? It wasn't something he wanted to think about now. No analysis. No thoughts. Especially ... no memories. He just wanted to close his own eyes for a moment and continue to bathe Trav ... perhaps cleanse both of them, boy and man, together ... in spirit. He soaped Trav's back, taking special care with each of the slowly healing sores, and massaged the warmth into the boy's limp and seemingly lifeless form. The boys arms and legs lay unmoving, but for the motion that Kallen imparted to them. His flesh lay still -- even it's cold tautness was replaced with the slackness of total relaxation. Kallen noted again how little muscle tone the boy had. Something more for him to work on. Trav's buttocks clenched and clasped, just as a normal boy's would, when Kallen let the sponge slip down between his cheeks, yet the soft mounds barely had enough flesh to hide the tiny pink funnel of his anus. If ever a boy were wide open to a man's touch, it was this boy. Kallen simply washed along Trav's groove lovingly, and so lightly did he cleanse the boy's anus, that Trav lay perfectly still. Down along his thighs, Kallen washed the boy's skin clean, from the days, perhaps weeks, of laying in bed. Then the back of his knees, and his calves. He bent each of Trav's legs up, at the knees, and washed each of his feet in turn. He finished off with liberal strokes of the sponge across Trav's whole body, dipping it again and again into the pool, to let the warm, seemingly healing waters, wash over them both. Then, for long, languid moments, he just held Trav still, embracing him, cherishing him. Kallen felt his erection slowly subside, but without any of the frustration he would normally have felt, at being deprived of an orgasm. He wondered, feeling the boy's heartbeat through his own chest, whether this moment alone wasn't just as fulfilling as any climax he had ever felt. He thought Trav was asleep now, feeling the slow exhale of his hot breath against his chest, yet he still needed to shampoo his hair and wash his face. He looked down at the unkempt curls, and smiled. How like the boy! Wavy, looking tousled and uncombed -- uncared for. Kallen's smile disappeared. He himself had played a part in that. No more. He knew it without even consciously thinking it. As long as he had a say in it, Traveler 109 would find things a bit different, from now on. He touched the boy's hair. It was soft and dry -- it's fine strands lifting apart from each other, springing to his touch, giving Trav that unkempt look. His tresses needed to be tamed, and brushed. They would lay beautifully about his head, curling naturally, if only someone would care. As Kallen now cared. Once again he carefully, gently rolled Trav's body over on top of his own, and he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. He shifted the boy's body around, pivoting him in his lap, till he could lay his head in the crook of his left arm. Then he dipped the boy's head back, letting the warm waters soak into Trav's tresses. With his free hand, he applied the bath oil and kneaded and spread it, to cleanse each strand. Trav never opened eyes. He was either feeling total bliss, or was dead to the world. Another dip into the waters, and gentle quick swirls to wash the shampoo away, then Kallen rinsed and rinsed, bringing up clean warm waters from the other side of the pool in the sponge, and squeezing it into Trav's hair. A few careful swipes with a corner of the sponge about Trav's face, and it was done. Just the trace of a smile formed on Trav's red lips, as Kallen dabbed the sponge about the boy's face, and the man knew his charge had awakened. "Open your eyes, Sleepy-Head." "Uhhhnnh, feels so good, I don't think I can," Trav answered drowsily, barely bothering to open his mouth, or even move his lips. Kallen laughed softly, "Ok, Little Traveler, you sleep. I'll get you dried, then it's time for both of us to call it a night. He paused, and looked down at his charge. How strange, that he had once thought of this boy as homely, or lifeless. Why, all one needed to do was look at the bright color of his cheeks, the glisten of his olive- tinted skin, the rich burnish of his auburn eyebrows ... the white of those two protruding front teeth, and their marks on his bottom lip. No. This boy was no Adonis. He wasn't Serge. He wasn't Robbie. He was just a boy. Little Trav. Just a very special little boy. Kallen struggled against the sudden constriction in his throat, to breathe in deeply. "Tommie," he almost whispered. "Bath is done." In the blink of an eye, the Rio Grande idyll vanished, to be replaced by the translucent walls and glass door of the bathing chamber. The water started to drain away, much faster than it had poured in -- to be replaced by an even warmer swoosh of swirling air, from drying jets. Kallen stood, again bracing one arm beneath Trav's buttocks, and with the other letting the boy's body separate from his own, so the drying air could waft about them both. When they were both pretty well dried, he said, "Tommie. Open the door, please." It popped open with the familiar hiss of the seals being released, and Kallen stepped out. He grabbed up one of the towels and draped it over his charge, then carried him back into the bedroom. "Trav," he whispered lowly. "Trav, wakeup for a moment, ok? I'll prop you here in the chair for a minute, so I can get you new sheets and all. Would you like your coke now?" Trav kind of moaned acknowledgement, but barely opened his eyes, then closed them again. "Hmmh, I take that to mean you would just as soon sleep. Ok. Hold on, I'll be quick." He laid the boy in the easy chair beside the bed, and propped his head up with a pillow. Trav looked so slack and limp, but for the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It took but a moment for Kallen to change the sheets and get dressed, then he rolled Trav into his arms again and laid him flat upon the bed. He got a new diaper onto the boy, and put a pillow under his head. "I'm going to put you on your other side this time, Trav. Your sores are looking a lot bette ...." "Ohhhh nooo," Trav moaned weakly, miserably, opening his eyes all the way now, in alarm. "You know I have to, Trav. Trust me on this." "But you know that I'm ...," Trav started to protest, but then just stopped, as if defeated. He pressed his lips together tightly, forcing back the tears, and just looked forlorn. Kallen rolled Trav over on his side, facing the chair, and pulled up his covers, tucking them in around his outstretched form. "I bet you feel much better, after the bath, huh?" he said, wanting to change the subject. "Yeah, but ...." Trav squeaked out, his lips starting to tremble. His eyes were moistening. He obviously didn't want Kallen to see he was going to cry. "Look, Little Traveler," Kallen spoke softly, and touched his hand to the boy's hair, smoothing it, letting the curls sift through his fingers, "there's no need to cry tonight. Or any other night, from now on. I'm staying here with you. I'll sleep right here in the chair." "You ... you will?" Trav gulped, his eyes suddenly wide open, questioning. His mouth opened, showing his wonder. "Yeah. You and me, babe. Right here." "But why ... would you ... do that?" It sounded as if the boy couldn't imagine such a thing. "Hey, someone has to fight off all those monsters you keep talking about," Kallen tried to make light of it. He stepped back from the bed and flopped down into the chair nonchalantly, levered up the leg rest, and started pulling one of the old sheets over his own outstretched body. "But ... but you said there are no monsters." Trav squeaked out again, his high-pitched, rasping voice so perplexed. "That's right, there are none. Sorry, I was just kidding again." "Then ... why are you staying?" Kallen closed his eyes momentarily, and sank back into the comfortable recliner. He really didn't know what to say to the boy. Should he tell him that he cared? That he felt like it was one way to make up for being such a bastard earlier? That if there were indeed monsters in his imagination, then they just had to be banished forever? That he couldn't stand to sit at his monitor, ever again, and listen to the boy cry himself to sleep .... "Maybe I ... maybe it's time that ... aw ... maybe I just like your company, Little Traveler," he finally said. He saw Trav gulp, silently, his eyes so wide, still so disbelieving. The boy didn't say anything, but just scrunched his lips up on the right side of his mouth, as if he were considering it all. Kallen stretched and gave a kind of fake yawn, feeling so awkward, not knowing what to say. "Now, you get some sleep, ok? I'll be here to watch your back," he finally said. Trav didn't answer. He just looked across the intervening space between them, directly into Kallen's eyes, still looking like he just couldn't grasp what the man was saying. Or couldn't believe it. ----------------------------- Trav lay awake, looking a the sleeping visage of the man before him, long after Kallen himself had drifted off to sleep. The pilot had started to snore then, his head rolling off to one side, his mouth open. Trav just stared and stared at the man, wondering, going over and over in his head, about all that had happened this evening. From the gentle way that the man had picked him up, to take him to the bath, to the way he had held him so tight, their naked bodies touching each other, to the way he had so tenderly washed the water over every part of his body. To the sharing of secret fears, to the sharing of those long, silent moments in the bath, when neither of them spoke. To the moments when he felt so secure, for once in his lifetime. To now. Trav felt the tears start to trickle down his cheeks. Funny, for once, their wet trails didn't feel so cold on his flesh. They were warm, this time. Soothing. Relaxing. He looked once more, through the veil of tears at the wavering image of the man laying protectively just a few feet away, and felt a release. He had no conscious control of his muscles, but he was somehow certain, that for once they felt so relaxed. All his tension was gone. Finally! He could let himself ... he could just let go .... "Computer," he started to say, then remembered. "Tommie. Please turn the lights out. I'd like to ... sleep, now."