For Want of One - conclusion

Eunuchs, murder and mayhem near Ancient Babylon.  Minimal cutting 
scenes, time travel, hard to follow, and no sex.  Sorry . . . it's 
based on a recurring nightmare and this is how it always goes.

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FOR WANT OF ONE - CONCLUSION

     Kaelen awoke with a pounding headache, unable to remember the 
last time he had felt so bad.  Thoughts of the last office party 
came to mind, making him very afraid to even open his eyes.  
Slowly, he sat up and did so anyway. 
     The light was blinding, and Kaelen realized he was sweating.  
Wherever he was, it was hot.  Very hot, and dry.  As he gradually 
came to his senses, he realized he was sitting in the sand, out in 
the open, in the blazing sun.  He looked around, but saw nothing 
but sand.  There were flat areas, dunes, and the sand blew up over 
the tips of those dunes in fog-like clouds.  There were patterns, 
dizzying to look at.  Kaelen shook his head and tried to focus his 
eyes.  The pain was almost intolerable.  “Where in hell am I ? “ he 
asked aloud.
     The voice that replied inside his head made him yelp and jump 
straight up, to land with no dignity at all face-first in the 
sand.  “Outskirts of ancient Babylon, circa 5 to 600 BC.”
     Then it hit him.
     The attempt had succeeded.  The temporal viewer had actually 
managed to focus enough of the distortions in Time to send him 
back.  Those same distortions, which he himself had discovered, and 
which had also erased his very existence.  He thought back to the 
initial launch of the Temporal Viewer.  There was so much to see, 
so much to learn in the past.  He never even dreamed of the side 
effect of the Viewer’s power consumption, however.  While viewing 
the events that had lead to the last great war, enough minute 
distortions in the very fabric of time had collected around his 
chamber.  He had, in fact, become exempt from the normal flow of 
time.  Then things begun to change.
     At first it was the name and face of the guard at his door, 
which he dismissed out of hand and blamed on faulty memory or 
inattention.  Then he had found, bluntly, that HE himself no longer 
existed.  Somewhere back in time, something had gone wrong while he 
was in the chamber. 
     One boy.
     One boy had had a son. 
     That son had had sons.
     Eventually, Kaelen had descended from that one boy, centuries 
later.
     But as he had sat watching history unfold on his monitor, 
something happened.
     The computer called it a Breakpoint.  It was based on the 
theory that anything that CAN occur, does occur - in alternate 
Timelines.  Kaelen, however, was outside of ALL the timelines when 
it had happened.
     One boy.
      His sons.
      Their sons - perhaps a very nation.
     Gone with the single stroke of a knife.
      
     Kaelen bowed his head to his knees, fumbling for his canteen.  
He had come prepared, at least.  Well, prepared to travel.  His 
implants were functioning, and he was in discreet communication 
with the computer he had built, centuries distant in ONE possible 
future.  The fact that the computer had spoken through the implant 
and frightened him bolstered his faith that he would succeed.  
Kaelen took a long drink and remembered why he had come.

     His name was (is?) Rahim, and he was a beautiful boy.  
Somewhere near ancient Babylon, this boy had lived, grown up, 
perhaps married, and fathered children who would in turn father 
children who would in turn give rise to Kaelen in the far future.  
That was one possibility.  The other was that Rahim, long before 
his reached manhood, was sold as a slave boy to a wealthy merchant 
and made into a eunuch.  With his emasculation, countless 
descendants had disappeared before Kaelen’s eyes on the monitor.  
Himself included.  Trapped in the temporally exempt chamber, he was 
left with only one choice.

     For want of that one boy, he had gone back in time to make 
sure that the Breakpoint never happened.  He had to make sure that 
Rahim was not gelded to live out his life as a plaything for some 
depraved and wealthy merchant.

     “Computer, “ Kaelen whispered to himself, “respond.”
     “Working . . . “ replied the soft feminine voice.
     “WHEN am I, computer ?”
     “Approximately 5 to 600 BC as stated outside ancient Babylon.  
You have 3 days to the Breakpoint to which you were drawn.” the 
computer informed him.
     
     Kaelen drew himself up and set out, walking slowly to conserve 
his strength.  The open desert was not the best climate for a hike 
and he had little time.  Following the tips from the voice only he 
could hear through his implants, he made his way to a caravan 
route.  The water and food supplements he had packed would sustain 
him, but Kaelen could not help but wonder how long he could hold 
out in the heat; especially with all the packs he was going to have 
to carry.  Fortunately, he did not have to wait long.  Upon the 
advice of the computer, he found himself on the track coming up 
behind a caravan which had stopped for the worst part of the day to 
rest at a scant oasis.  Obviously the computer had picked a near 
perfect place to “drop” him.  He adjusted his garments, paying 
special attention to his turban so as not to expose his shaven 
head.  Kaelen reminded himself that that, in this time frame, was a 
sign of a slave and very few free men or boys shaved their heads.
     No one in the caravan seemed to be paying much attention as 
they went about the business of watering their mounts and tending 
to their cargo.  Kaelen made an indelicate sound as he approached.  
There were at least a fifty camels in the caravan, and a few horses 
and what looked to be mules.  There were armed men, carrying wicked 
looking swords and staffs, and servants attending to the men as 
well as the animals.  It was obviously a well guarded caravan of a 
rich merchant, and the cargo was slaves.
     “I should be so lucky, “ Kaelen muttered.
     “Confirmed, “ the voice in his head supplied helpfully, “This 
is the caravan of the merchant you seek, but the boy is not with 
it.  He is already in the city.”
     Kaelen nodded, not thinking that the gesture would go 
unnoticed since the Viewer could not actually see him in person.  
He continued to survey the caravan.  The servants were clad only in 
brief loincloths, and all of them had shaven heads.  Most were 
black, and very few of them were large and muscular.  In fact, 
almost all of the ones serving seemed to be tall and thin.  Many of 
the guards were ominous looking, huge men with which Kaelen decided 
it would be best not to tangle with.  The men being served were 
richly dressed, and obviously had not wanted for anything in quite 
some time.  Still he approached, hoping that the implant could 
translate both ways fast enough for conversation.  It was then that 
he paused, taking closer notice of the cargo.
     That cargo was indeed slaves, now that he could see them 
better.
     They were being hauled in large cage-like wagons, which Kaelen 
found unusual.  He had assumed that they would be on foot, 
suffering with every step.  But upon further examination of that 
idea, he decided that a bunch of dead or injured slaves would not 
be worth much.  It made sense, especially if the market was good.  
A few of the bald servants were passing water skins to the 
prisoners in the wagons, and plates of fruit and dried meat as 
well.  From the looks of it, whoever owned them did not want them 
damaged in transit.  The slaves in the rolling cages took the food 
and drink without much enthusiasm and passed it amongst themselves.
     “You there !”  A voice shouted .
     Kaelen stopped as a large guard approached him, brandishing 
his sword.
     “What do you want ?”  The man demanded.
     The lag was negligible and Kaelen breathed a sigh of relief.  
“I am a lost traveler, good sir, separated from my company.  Might 
I travel with your great caravan ?  I can pay you well.”
     The guard looked Kaelen over, judging him on sight.  In a deep 
and threatening voice he replied, “I will take you to the Overseer 
who will decide.”  Then he paused.  “He is a greedy man who will no 
doubt take what you can offer him, but be warned . . . “ and he 
left that last statement hanging.  Visions of being robbed and sold 
as a slave himself filled Kaelen’s mind, but he followed the guard 
to the oasis where a tent had been pitched under a puny palm tree.  
The guard announced their arrival, and pushed Kaelen inside.
     The man who sat in the tent was a bit fat, and dressed in fine 
silks and jewelry.  He looked at the guard and Kaelen and demanded, 
“What is this ?”
     “A lost traveler, sir, who wishes to pay to travel with us, “ 
the guard answered.
     “Very well, I am always open to make a profit.  What can you 
offer me, stranger ?”
     Kaelen reached into his pocket and produced a small bar of 
gold.  He had come prepared for monetary emergencies and gold was a 
universal currency.  The guard snatched the bar from Kaelen’s 
slight hand and presented it with a bow to the Overseer, whose eyes 
bulged.  “You are no doubt a well to do citizen, “ he replied, “and 
this will insure your travel with me.  Judging from the looks of 
you, you come from the high district, am I right ?”
     The computer had prepared his disguise well.  Kaelen nodded, 
inclining his head in respect.
     The Overseer then laughed.  “Dine with me, stranger, and tell 
me how you came to be out here in the desert, all alone and 
wandering.”
     Kaelen sighed silently in relief.  To be invited to dine, in 
this culture, was a good sign.
     The guard gestured to a cushion, and Kaelen seated himself.  
“My own company was set upon by robbers, good sir, and only I 
escaped with my life and a few small things.  I was merely 
traveling back to the city, returning home.  This is a most 
terrible setback for me.”
     As they continued to talk, two bald and near naked servants 
entered.  They were much larger and healthier looking than the 
others Kaelen had seen.  They did not, however, make eye contact 
with either Kaelen or his host.  Both were black, with large lips 
and small ears and flattened noses.  In each ear and in their 
septums they wore thick gold rings.  Their brief loincloths left 
almost nothing to the imagination, and their sweating bodies showed 
very little, in fact, almost no body hair at all.  As one bent over 
to present him a plate of fruit chunks, Kaelen stole a glance at 
the small, tight garment.  It was coarse cloth, and very tight in 
the front, coming up to fit between the cheeks of the servant’s 
butt.  It left no doubt, upon a close look to the front, that the 
young servant showed no bulge at all through the cloth.  He was 
indeed a  full eunuch.
     Kaelen, despite the oppressive heat, shivered.  
     When the two of them had finished serving, the rich man waved 
them off to a corner where they sat cross-legged staring at the 
floor of the tent.  Kaelen took his queue to begin eating when the 
host did, which made him smile.  “You are well mannered, as I would 
expect from a high born man.  We will make the city by nightfall, 
which is good.  The desert can be very cold at night and all those 
naked slaves of ours might catch a chill.  They will need all the 
strength they have for what is to come when we arrive.”
     “And for where are they bound, excellency ?”  Kaelen asked 
politely.
     “Ah, they are the finest of Africa and a few young Arabs whom 
are destined to be sold on the slave block in the city.  They are 
all young and strong and healthy, and most have great looks.  My 
employer only imports the finest to sell, as there is much profit 
in this.  Why, on the last trip we brought him a Bedouin beauty of 
a boy which sold for more than I can remember in a long time.”  The 
fat man paused over a bite of fruit and took a long drink, passing 
the wineskin to Kaelen.  “In fact, “ he continued, “He looked 
somewhat like you.”
     “I do descend from stock in that area, I am told, “ Kaelen 
replied.
     “Most arrogant boy I ever saw, “ the Overseer continued, “no 
respect, no manners, fighting with everyone all the time.  He 
actually tried to escape several times and we finally had to tie 
him to a horse, literally, to keep him.  He even dared look 
everyone in the eye.  He was so perfect, however, that no one dared 
damage him . . . “
     As the fat man rambled about the boy, the computer confirmed 
through Kaelen’s implants that it was indeed Rahim that the man 
spoke of.  There was still time, it assured him, and the boy was 
being kept in careful preparation for his gelding - or not. 
     Kaelen continued to eat and to watch the quiet eunuchs as the 
fat man rambled on and on, while all the time some deep part of his 
mind was screaming.

     Kaelen had no problem with the caravan’s leader, and his gold 
bar did indeed get him into the city.  The trip was even pleasant.  
The only thing that had unnerved him was the fact that his host had 
seen fit to assign him his own servant, a shaven-headed eunuch like 
all the rest Kaelen had seen.  The eunuch was young, perhaps twenty 
at the most but with fairer skin.  Like the rest, he also wore the 
gold rings in his nose and ears and was dressed only in the tight 
and small loincloth that made it painfully obvious of what he was 
missing.  It had taken several hours, but Kaelen had finally gotten 
the eunuch engaged in some conversation.
    He told Kaelen of how he had once been free and had lived in a 
small village on the banks of the Red Sea some three or four years 
past.  He had been seventeen, he said, when the area’s crops had 
failed and the tax collectors had taken many of the young people as 
slaves to pay what their families owed.  He did not offer many 
details of his emasculation, only that he had expected it and had 
heard stories - all of which had proven true.  He had been purged 
and starved for three days in the slaves’ holding cells, then they 
had come for him.  There had been others as well, and all of them 
had been taken to a special cell and one by one, strapped down to a 
strange bench to watch as the slave broker’s men came at them with 
a glowing hot knife.  One by one, they had their genitals tied off 
with a tight cord, then sliced off completely with the searing 
blade.  For three days, they were given no water nor food, and the 
wounds where their penises had been were stoppered with a very 
painful plug.  Kaelen shivered at the mental image, with one phrase 
burnt into his brain :
     “About half of us were lucky, “ the eunuch had said, “they 
died on the second day.”
     Kaelen had excused himself at the end of the eunuch’s tale, 
and had gone straight to the overseer.  He produced two medium 
sized bars of silver, and had bought the young eunuch on the spot.  
There might be nothing he could do for the emasculated youth as far 
as the damage that had been done to him, but there was definitely 
something he could do about the eunuch’s future.
     So it was that, as promised, they arrived in the city.  Kaelen 
and his eunuch, who refused to speak his name, parted the caravan 
and headed into the merchant district.  Kaelen purchased a room for 
the night, complete with bath, and shocked both his eunuch servant 
and the proprietor by only paying for one room.  The innkeeper had 
suggested that he put the eunuch in the slaves’ quarters with the 
others, but Kaelen  claimed that he had just bought the youth and 
needed to have a long talk with him that would doubtless take most 
of the night.  The innkeeper had given him a sly look, mentioned 
that the room with bath would be ready for them shortly, and 
happily taken a small si