First Channel s-3

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  He turned back to the congregation. “If there’s anyone here who in good conscience cannot pray with me, I ask you to leave. If you all leave, then I shall leave Fort Freedom. For I have sworn a vow that no matter how I may suffer, and no matter if it takes me the rest of my life, as God is my witness, I will not die a killer!”

  There was a silence in the chapel. Then, at the back, a rustling as Sara Fenell stood. “Drust believed in this new vision of yours,” she said, “and because he believed, he’s dead. I can’t accept that his death was God’s will—it was a punishment to him and to me, for turning against God’s Law. Now you’d have us believe it’s not a curse to be Sime? If Vee were here, she’d tell you what a curse it is!” With tears threatening to choke her voice, she said loudly, “I believe in the old ways, the true ways. Until you return to them and cast these demons out of our midst, I can no longer follow you.”

  Alone, head high, she walked toward the door. Dan Whelan, the blacksmith, rose, and with him a pale woman and a boy of about ten. As they followed Sara out, others got up and left—perhaps twenty people in all. The chapel door closed behind them, the heavy sound echoing in the silence.

  Rimon looked back to Abel Veritt. He was staring at the door, in stricken disbelief. Then Jord came up beside him, putting an arm about his father’s shoulders. “All cannot accept the truth immediately,” he said. Then, to the congregation, he said, “There will always be those who doubt. We must not condemn them. Once they see us fulfill our vows, they’ll return.”

  Veritt straightened. “That is true. My son is right. We must pray even more for those who have left us tonight, for they have rejected the chance to be among the first to learn to live together, Sime and Gen. Come, then, let us pray for God’s blessing upon us all.”

  Am I going to be responsible for destroying Fort Freedom, too? Rimon wondered. Where will it end?

  Chapter Fourteen

  FIRST WORDS

  After the scene in the chapel, the atmosphere in Fort Freedom was strained. The feast was held, as planned, but the absence of six families in so small a community was strongly felt. Even Willa, who enjoyed anything resembling a party, was subdued. Those who had walked out remained behind closed doors all day, with curtains drawn.

  After the feast, Rimon and Kadi began preparations to return home. The temperature was dropping sharply, and even the well-built house they were staying in had only a small circle of warmth near the fire.

  Del and Carlana spent the evening with them, and as frost formed on the windows, Del said, “That does it. You’re coming home with us until the cold spell is over.”

  “Yes,” agreed Carlana. “The cold this time of year is vicious.”

  “We’ve got a good house—” Rimon said.

  “Sure,” said Del, “hut with the fire out, your walls will be cold. Besides, we can use three extra warm bodies at our place for a couple of days.”

  “People will gather in the tightest-built houses here in Fort Freedom,” Carlana added. “Really—body heat makes a difference in this kind of weather.”

  Rimon knew his friends were avoiding mentioning the fact that their home was better built than his—especially that they had a wooden floor raised off the ground. Kadi and Willa would feel the cold more than the Simes—and, mostly for Kadi’s sake, he agreed.

  In the few months they’d been here, Del had expanded the simple cabin Rimon and Kadi had helped build into a three-room home with a loft where the children slept. The blue curtains Kadi had made still hung at the windows of the main room, but Carlana had added a couch with a yellow cover with two pillows of the same blue, and a braided rug on the floor of neutral browns and beiges with just a touch of blue and yellow.

  There were double panes of glass in the windows—a real extravagance, but they kept out the cold. Another luxury was the stove. Not only did it heat the main room efficiently, but Carlana could cook on it more easily than over the open fire as Kadi had to do.

  Rimon thought of his small store of cash, and the fact that the tax collector would turn up any day now—and this quarter he owed on both Kadi and Willa. No, he couldn’t see how he could afford to buy even a stove, although, with two Gens to feed, and a baby on the way—it was a necessity.

  The sense of challenge he’d felt last summer was gone. Then, roughing it in the warm weather, making it on his own where no one knew he was his father’s son, had seemed exhilarating. The lack of ready money had seemed a minor inconvenience. But now, he looked at Kadi marveling at Carlana’s stove, and the knowledge went through him. If he didn’t have the money to provide for her, she could die from the cold.

  The irony of it. The one thing Rimon knew was Gendealing. In nine months, he had claimed only two Gens. He could claim six more—but he could no longer sell a Gen like an animal, and if he kept them, he’d have to pay tax on them.

  He reached turnover the second day at Del’s, and both Del and Carlana began to treat him as if he were in hard need, never ever getting between him and Kadi.

  Willa left her play with the children and attached herself to Rimon’s side, his shadow, as Kadi spent most of her time with Carlana, or preparing meals.

  The cold snap continued for four days. Only Rimon and Del went out at all, and then only to see that the animals were all right, hurrying back inside as soon as they could. The fourth evening, Del told Rimon, “Ana’s using a lot of selyn—too much, too fast. And there’s no telling what the weather will do next. Rimon—I’ve got to go to Slina’s tomorrow—”

  “Of course,” said Rimon. “I’ll help you, Del. If we each take a Gen on a horse, we’ll be a lot warmer and faster than with a wagon.”

  Del studied him. “Thanks, Rimon. I hope the weather breaks before we need them, but—”

  “But you can’t take chances with your life, or Carlana’s. I understand. Kadi understands. Willa is the only one who doesn’t understand the kill, Del. If you or Carlana must kill before we leave, let’s try to keep her from knowing about it.”

  Del nodded. “The children have never seen it, either. They’ll grow up soon enough and have to learn, but for now—Rimon—how long can you shelter Willa?”

  “Until she’s had many transfers—so that if she does see a kill, she won’t associate it with what she does for me.”

  Slina’s Gens were the usual nonentities. Although Rimon held himself deliberately in check, he found they didn’t even tempt him. Partly, he knew, it was the drug, but partly it was that they didn’t seem to have what he wanted.

  They took the Gens in through the back door to the small storeroom that shared a wall with the well-heated main room. When they emerged into the main room, though, Willa was at the side door, trying to see what they had brought. .

  “No, Willa,” Rimon said firmly, closing the door,

  Willa made a questioning noise, and pointed to the door. Owen and Jana left their toys to find out what was going on.

  “No, Willa,” Rimon repeated.

  This time the sound she made had a demanding tone, and her nager said she was determined to satisfy her curiosity. He would have to distract her.

  “Come on,” he said, “let’s play with the children. You’re going to miss them when we go home, aren’t you? But Kadi and I will soon have a baby for you to play with. You’ll like that, won’t you?”

  He wondered how much Willa understood as she studied him, listening intently. When Rimon turned Willa and guided her back toward where the children had been playing, Jana scampered to her toys, picked up a doll, and said, “Willa, play baby!”

  Rimon went to look at Carlana, who was asleep on the couch. Her field was still dropping too rapidly. Tomorrow she’d have to kill. “Kadi, I think we’d better leave tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “I’d rather not be here when Carlana has to kill, but until then I can ease her somewhat. She’s having a wretched time, but Mama always said that kind of misery would stop when the baby started to show. Carlana ought to be fine after tom
orrow.”

  “I hope so,” said Rimon, not telling her of the unhealthily bright anomaly in the Sime woman’s field, where the baby was wasting selyn. He knew Del had noticed it, too, but had decided it was not a danger sign. Rimon was not so sure.

  That night, Rimon lay beside Kadi, keeping her warm as the wind rose outside. He and Del were taking turns re-stoking the stove, but even though it was going full blast, Rimon felt cold. He realized after a while that the ambient nager carried the chill from the Gens out in the storeroom, even though they’d been given all the extra blankets.

  Rimon got up and went to see if perhaps he could get a little more heat out of the stove. He’d have to help Del split some more logs before he left in the morning. Inserting one more log, Rimon knew Del hadn’t even noticed the chilling of the ambient. What makes me different?

  Restless, he went to the window, certain that he detected a change in the weather. When he saw the clouds boiling up from the horizon, he knew he’d known it all day—snow. Would they be able to get home before it hit?

  He went back to lie beside Kadi, consoling himself that at least snow meant the temperature would rise. Soon he drifted into an uneasy sleep, drawn down and down by the collective Gen nager.

  They woke to a white-blanketed world, knee-deep, the heavy sky warning of more on the way. Rimon helped Del shovel out to check the stock and bring in more wood, glad to get away from the tensions in the house. There was no question of their going home until the roads were clear again, and they all knew what that meant. Maybe both Kadi and Willa can shield me from Carlana’s actual killbliss.

  Kadi was making breakfast when they returned. Del frowned. “Carlana isn’t up?”

  Rimon detected Del’s worry, but Kadi said, “Let her sleep. Sleep is the best medicine.”

  “Not at this time of month,” Del replied. “We’ve got four Gens in this house,” said Rimon. “They had me sound asleep last night. Carlana’s exhausted—small wonder if this nager keeps her asleep. It’s good for her, Del.”

  Dubious, Del took two bowls of the cereal Kadi had made, stirred powder into them, then went into the back room. The food would drug the Gens again—thus the one Carlana must take today would be unresponsive.

  Willa, who was sitting at the table between the children, stared after Del suspiciously. Then, as Kadi was dishing out cereal, she got up, slid Jana down the bench to sit beside her brother, and took Rimon’s arm, guiding him to sit beside Jana. Curious, he allowed her to seat him. Then she poured him some tea, and finally sat down next to him and began to eat her cereal. Kadi watched the performance, and said, “Good girl, Willa. You’re learning how to keep Rimon from feeling bad.” Then she said to Rimon, “If Willa keeps on at this rate, soon she’ll be as safe anywhere as I am.”

  Rimon stroked the back of Kadi’s hand with one tentacle, letting their fields mesh. Vaguely, outside his concentration, he felt a painful disturbance, but he blocked it away.

  Then the side door banged open. Del ran from the storeroom under a screaming burst of augmentation, darting into the bedroom. Rimon jumped to his feet, instantly realizing that the vague stirring of pain was in fact a blinding-hot lance.

  The moment he left the shelter of Kadi and Willa’s fields, he was fully immersed in the pain. He managed one staggering step and then doubled over with an aching cramp in his gut. Then Kadi was at his side, gasping, “What’s wrong?”

  He could breathe again. “Not me—Carlana!”

  Feeling the fear rise in the childish nager of Owen and Jana, Rimon added, “Willa—come with me. Kadi, take care of the children.” He went toward the bedroom.

  Kadi also started for the bedroom. “But Rimon—I’ve got to help her.”

  He caught her back. “No! I won’t—I can’t risk you, Kadi. Carlana’s going to have to kill. Willa can’t explain to the children—but she can help me.”

  Del appeared at the bedroom door. Rimon took two more steps, pulling Willa after him. Del said to the children, “It’s a lot warmer outside today. Why don’t you go out and play in the snow? Kadi will help you bundle up, but come right in if it starts to snow again.”

  Owen came over to Del. “Mama’s sick. Pa, is she gonna die?”

  “No!” said Del, too hastily. “No, Owen. Rimon is going to help her.”

  “Our dad died,” said Owen. “Mr. Veritt couldn’t help him. God couldn’t help him. He died anyway.”

  Rimon could feel the conflict in Del as he sought a way to reassure the boy. “Owen, if God has a plan for us, it’s so big that one person can never understand it all. I don’t know why your father died, except that that left you and Jana and your mother for me to love. You know I love you, don’t you? That, no matter what happens, I’ll take care of you?”

  Shocked, Rimon turned to protest Del’s suggesting to the child that Carlana might die, but what he saw was Owen hugging Del, reassured that there was someone strong in his life. “Good,” Del murmured. “Now you go play with Jana. She’s too young to understand, so don’t let her get scared. We’re going to see that your mother gets well.”

  When the boy had gone, Del closed the door and turned to Rimon. “God’s plan,” he said bitterly. “Only God knows God’s plan, and what comfort is that to a poor, scared kid?”

  “Del,” Carlana said wearily, “please don’t.”

  “Ana,” he came to her side, “just lie still. Rimon’s going to help you.”

  Tears slid down her cheeks. “The baby is dying. Our baby. Oh, Del, I wanted it so much, even though—”

  “Hush!” he said, his voice edged with emotion.

  “Del, you’ve got to understand. I killed. And I enjoyed it! And then we—”

  “We loved! said Del. “We still love.” Through clenched teeth, she insisted, “I sinned!” And the pain grew again, sweat standing out on her forehead as her swollen belly rose visibly under the thin blanket. Del looked up at Rimon.

  “Carlana,” said Rimon, groping desperately for the right thing to say. “Think about what Abel Veritt said at the year-turning ceremony. God’s will is to make two out of three children born at Fort Freedom Sime. Not a punishment, Carlana—just a fact of life that God leaves us to deal with… just as He leaves us to deal with something like this.”

  She smiled weakly and let her eyes close, gritting her teeth as the pain mounted and mounted.

  Rimon sat on the edge of the bed, Willa behind him. He placed her hands on his shoulders and said, “Stay there, Willa.” Her hands gripped him once and relaxed, as if to tell him she understood. Her field was steady, reassuring. Duoconscious, he saw immediately the flaring consumption of selyn as the child within Carlana’s womb fought against death. But the selyn consumption was sporadic. The tiny life Rimon now studied drew selyn from its mother’s system in demanding gulps, but grew weaker even as Rimon watched.

  Rimon looked up at Del. Lips tight, Del nodded. In a faint whisper, he said, “Save her, Rimon. If you can’t save them both, save her.”

  I’m supposed to work miracles! But it was already hopeless for the baby. Carlana would be all right if she didn’t bleed to death or die of attrition in the contractions. He let go of physical perceptions and dropped to the cellular level. He tried to surround that tiny life with his own field, as if he were Gen, but even that did not slow the mad consumption. Yet it did stop the drain on Carlana, so he held there, shuddering in the death agony of that small life as it flared, flickered, and finally went out.

  When Rimon emerged to duoconsciousness, still in touch with Carlana but grasping for a partial respite from pain, she was crying softly, and holding tightly to Del’s hands.

  Willa’s field was also filled with sadness, but she remained where she was. Rimon put his hands over hers for a moment, murmuring, “Good girl. You’re doing just fine. Stay there, Willa. There’s more to come.”

  It came almost immediately, as Carlana’s body heaved with the last efforts to expel the dead fetus. The pains were not so sharp now, but they came more f
requently. Again Carlana heaved, giving an open-throated, inarticulate moan. “Good, Carlana, once more should do it.”

  She nodded, drawing a deep breath, and, working with the next contraction, forced the dead tissue from her body. Rimon returned to the cellular level to control the wild loss of blood and selyn. As he had done with Risko, he used his own field as a tourniquet. It was easier now; his system no longer threatened to go into spasms as it had then.

  Del let out one trembling breath, and Rimon knew he understood how close Carlana had come to death. Their eyes met, and Del, still in deep rapport with his wife, let go of one of her hands to reach over and grip Rimon’s shoulder near Willa’s fingers. Silently, he mouthed, “Thank you, Rimon.” Rimon smiled weakly.

  “Del, I’ll bring one of the Gens. You finish this up.”

  As Rimon started to move, Del reached for the towels he’d brought and turned back the blanket. At the sudden sight of blood, Willa screamed.

  Fear knifed through the girl’s nager, throwing all three Simes into killmode.

  Carlana, verging on attrition, made a reflexive lunge in Willa’s direction, only her weakened condition preventing her from connecting. Willa fled in terror, and Rimon, his fields a throbbing tangle of agony, would have attacked her, but he was compelled by instinct to stand and fight off the other two Simes seeking the same prey.

  The tiny instant it took for him to turn back and face off against Del and Carlana was enough to prompt deja vu. This had happened before; but he had stopped it before, too. Yes—become Gen for them…

  Carlana collapsed back onto the pillows. Del gasped, then stared in astonishment “Shen, Rimon, you did it again!”

  But he couldn’t hold it. The wobble in his fields was back, becoming a mad fluctuation. He was thrown into Carlana’s desperate need, then back into that weird state of feeling like a Gen. Carlana moaned, and Del cringed. “Stop it!” he gasped. “Rimon, stop it! Kadi! Kadi!”