First Channel s-3

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Abel frowned, and then asked, “Can we raise our children not to fear?” He looked from Rimon to Del and Carlana. “The Gen is the primary key—I’m convinced of it. Imagine a community in which Simes did not kill because Gens didn’t expect to be killed! I wish Jon had been here today to see Willa’s face. I wish all the children had seen it. Imagine growing up, seeing transfers like that all the time. Who would be frightened then? Who would resist? Rimon—surely that is the way God planned Simes and Gens to live together!”

  “In the days of the Ancients,” Kadi murmured.

  “What?” asked Abel.

  “The way so many fairy tales start, you know, the kind of stories people tell their—oh.”

  Rimon stepped into the breach. “I think the story Kadi means is the one that starts, ‘In the last days of the Ancients, when Simes and Gens lived together—’ It pretty well describes the kind of society you’re talking about.”

  Kadi told them the story, with Del filling in some details of another version. Abel smiled tolerantly. “Obviously a Sime legend—blaming the Gens for the way the world is. Yet—isn’t saying that the Gens wanted to keep all the selyn for themselves a way of saying they—resisted? There is always truth within a parable, if only we can see it. Who are the Ancients supposed to be?”

  Rimon, Kadi, and Del stared at him in astonishment. “Why—the original people. Humans, before they mutated into Sime and Gen—the builders of the ruined cities—the eyeways—”

  “But Gens are the original human race,” said Abel “Simes are the mutation.”

  “I don!t think so,” said Kadi. “If the Ancients had all been Gens, what would have been the point of their selyn production? With whom would a person have fulfilled his potential? No, I think both Simes and Gens are mutated, to fit with one another.”

  “Well, either way,” said Abel, “we’re clearly meant to live together. I wonder why it has taken all these centuries to figure that out?”

  “Maybe some people have,” said Rimon. ‘There are other legends, stories. Kadi, do you remember old Brova’s tall tales?”

  “Yes. He claimed to have traveled all the way around the world, and he’d spend hours telling us about strange places.”

  “Instead of working,” added Rimon. “I don’t know if Dad fired him for that—or for telling us kids about the island of—what did he call it?”

  “I don’t remember,” said Kadi. “We were only seven or eight years old, but I remember that story, about an island where Simes and Gens lived together without killing. He claimed the Gens would go right up to any Sime in need and offer themselves, and that they didn’t die, and afterwards—”

  Rimon squirmed, and interposed, “They were just stories!”

  “But were they true?”

  “I doubt it,” said Rimon. “Brova was an old man—the oldest man I’ve ever met. He claimed to be fifty years past changeover, but nobody lives that long. He was probably thirty or so, and senile.”

  “Still,” said Kadi, “he had to get the ideas somewhere.”

  “The idea is always around,” said Rimon. “Brova just embroidered on it.” He noticed a Gen field approaching outside. “Jon—”

  The sun was setting. As Mrs. Veritt rose to light the lamps, Jon entered, bringing Zeth to Kadi. “He’s hungry,” he said.

  She smiled up at him, saying, “I know,” as she took the baby and prepared to nurse him.

  “We’ll have to be going home soon,” said Rimon. “Jon, do you know where Willa is?”

  “I think she went off with Jord somewhere. Rimon, may I stay at home tonight, and come out to you tomorrow? Both Mom and Dad are pre-turnover.”

  “But you are high-field, Jon. No, we won’t take any chances like that.”

  “That’s not fair!” Jon flared.

  “What’s not fair? Protecting your life?”

  “A lot you care! It’s blackmail, that’s what!”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Rimon saw Abel flinch from the Gen’s field, and Abel wasn’t in need. He moved to put himself between Abel and the boy. With the tension relieved, Veritt said, “Jon, just what is disturbing you?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Veritt,” said Jon, but Rimon felt the boy’s inner rebellion. “It’s just that if I can’t visit my parents—or anybody—just because I’m high-field, then I may as well go live out-Territory!” He turned to Rimon. “Since you’ve got Kadi back, you don’t need me, so I’ll never be low-field again unless I give transfer to someone else.”

  Rimon pondered that, disturbed by the truth of Jon’s conclusion. But another idea occurred, a chance to test something that had been on his mind since Zeth’s birth. “All right, Jon, come here.”

  He held out his hands, and almost by reflex Jon put his hands into transfer position. Rimon slipped into healing mode, made lip contact, and drew enough selyn from Jon to leave the boy low-field. It was over in an instant. “All right, Jon, you can go home now.”

  Jon stared at him suspiciously. “What did you do?”

  “I lowered your field.”

  “You took transfer without even asking me?”

  “No, I didn’t take transfer. I did what you asked—made it safe for you to stay with your parents tonight. Now go on—but I expect you home by tomorrow sunset, no later, understand?”

  “Yeah, uh, thanks, Rimon.” Self-consciously, he exchanged polite words with the Veritts and Carlana and left, almost stumbling over his own feet in the manner of adolescents—and Gens.

  Rimon noticed Del and Abel zlinning the boy. “He is low-field!” Del said. “I was afraid you were faking to give him confidence.”

  “What did you do?” demanded Kadi. “Rimon, you’ve thrown your whole cycle off!”

  “No I haven’t,” said Rimon quickly, aware of a near panic in his wife. “And I don’t have to balance my fields, either. Abel, Del, zlin me. Am I any higher-field?” He looked appealingly at Mrs. Veritt, but she wasn’t zlinning. She was watching Zeth, and Rimon had the impression she had hardly heard a word since the baby came in.

  Del was shaking his head, mystified, when Abel finally said, “No, you’re not any higher-field. What did you do? Where did Jon’s selyn go?”

  “The same place all that selyn came from that I transferred to Kadi when Zeth was born. I’ve thought about that a lot. I was horribly sick afterward with those fluctuations in my fields, nerve burn—but I wasn’t in need. That doesn’t make sense, Abel! I transferred to Kadi—oh, at least twice what I get from a transfer with Jon or Willa—and yet I wasn’t in need. I fell short again that month—but no more than the month before. So where did all that selyn come from?”

  “I have never questioned that it was a miracle,” said Abel. “God provided.”

  It was one of those moments when Abel’s faith proved an immense barrier to understanding.

  Finally Rimon said, “Well, maybe God did, but not the way you mean. Del—remember how I used to get that crazy wobble in my fields before—before a kill?”

  Del nodded. “Most peculiar sensation—used to give me a sick headache to be near you.”

  “And it intensified my need to the point where I couldn’t fight it off anymore—even with Kadi’s help.” To Abel, he added, “That was before she established.” And to Del, he said, “Well, I had another attack of it after Zeth was born, and it got me to thinking and kind of feeling around inside myself.”

  Veritt was nodding. “Yes, Rimon’s distress affected all of us. It’s a high price you pay for your healing ability.”

  “Maybe not, if I can learn to control this selyn storage system. That’s what was fluctuating—I was going almost into healing mode then coming right out of it again, and each time some selyn would leak into this storage system– like a reservoir for extra selyn. I’ve always had a short cycle—a month’s selyn would never last a month, and nobody knew why. My dad was the same way.”

  “And Jord,” murmured Abel.

  “Yes! I think what happens is that each time, some o
f the selyn goes into that reservoir—and stays there, permanently, unless the person learns to get at it.”

  “Rimon,” said Kadi, “considering what you and I went through when Zeth was born, I don’t think you’ve found the way to get at it.”

  “Oh, but I have! When I take transfer in healing mode—all the selyn goes into that reservoir. That’s why I’m still in need until I balance my fields. What I really do is draw the selyn into my system, ready for use—and that doesn’t hurt at all!”

  “You may be right, Rimon,” said Abel, “but if you do have this ‘reservoir,’ what is it for?”

  “Survival. A Sime who has it can store up two months’ worth of selyn at once. Then the second month he can draw from his reserve—or use it to fight, or survive in the cold, or augment. Only he can’t get at it by himself– he has to have a Gen to provide resistance. However, the Gen can be low-field, or even scared—and it still works.”

  “Do you think we all have it?” asked Carlana.

  “I don’t know. Jord seems to. It may be a new mutation, or there may have been Simes with the capacity all along– or every Sime may have it, but not use it. Maybe a trauma at changeover opens it. We just don’t know enough yet. Every new piece of information brings up a hundred new questions.”

  “Such as why this reservoir of yours becomes an asset rather than a liability only when you have Gens willing to help you get at the selyn you have stored. Surely that is another indication that we’re slowly finding out God’s plan,” said Abel.

  “I think we’re headed in the right direction,” Rimon agreed. “I wish Jord had been here to zlin what I did to Jon, and I want to zlin Jord in healing mode again.”

  Abel frowned. “Where is Jord? He knew we’d be planning—”

  Rimon said, “He’s post. He doesn’t want to sit around talking theories!”

  “He’s what?”

  “Post-kill—or, in this case, post-transfer. If you’re right, it’s his first time. You’d better not expect his feet to touch the ground until sometime tomorrow.”

  Kadi looked up and said quietly, “Rimon—Willa’s post, too.”

  For the first time, Rimon considered what that could mean. Jord and Willa were just as inexperienced as he and Kadi had been, and he recalled Kadi’s concern that Willa’s adolescent emotions were fixed on Jord.

  Just then the door opened, and the truants entered. Both were smiling, both had the too-neat look of freshly tucked clothing and just-combed hair, and both were flushed with a fresh and innocent joy.

  Jord took Willa’s hand, and approached his parents. Willa looked up at him proudly, joyfully, as he said, “Father—Mother—I have, good news. Willa has consented to become my wife.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  AN OLD FIGHT

  Only Del shared Rimon and Kadi’s concern over lord’s intention to marry Willa. Fort Freedom exploded in a rush of wedding plans, everyone as excited as if his own child were getting married. There was no use trying to talk to Willa—she was in paradise, certain that Jord was the husband Rimon and Kadi had promised her.

  While the wedding plans went forward, Rimon and Jord tested everyone in Fort Freedom in turn, always a few days after a kill, hoping to find someone who could imitate the healing mode.

  Their lack of success was disheartening.

  The one thing that brightened Rimon’s days was the security of having Kadi back for transfer. The next time, everyone left them alone with their son. That evening, with Zeth well-fed, warm, dry, and sound asleep, Rimon and Kadi prepared for transfer. He sighed. “At this moment I can’t believe I’ve ever known sexual desire—and yet I know it will be there after transfer, and I won’t be able to hold back. Kadi, what am I going to do when you’re fertile again?”

  “Let’s not spoil this time by worrying about next time.”

  “Then let’s worry about last time.”

  “Huh?”

  “I didn’t satisfy you. This time you take control. Don’t stop until you’re satisfied.”

  “But—”

  “What do you think I’m going to do—burst?”

  She giggled. Her nager bubbled with delight, but he could feel that she was relieved. How long he might have remained in anticipation, Rimon would never know—it was Kadi who could stand it no longer. She began to pour selyn into him, deep into every nerve, a solid, sure torrent that coursed through his system—and on into that reservoir he could suddenly perceive etched in glowing force, yielding before the impact of Kadi’s selyn until he began to feel he would indeed burst.

  The warmth of Kadi’s relaxation held him for a moment before his own pleasure took command of him, drawing him to physical consciousness of Kadi’s body against his as she resumed control, making love to him hungrily, passionately.

  On the wedding day, Rimon, Kadi, Willa, and Jon assembled early at the Veritt home. Jord was not there; Abel informed them that he was praying and meditating in the chapel.

  “This will be an important day for all of us,” said Abel. “Last month we found that Jord and Willa could have transfer; this month we’ll prove that before the whole world. Sara Fenell, Dan Whelan, and the others have agreed to be here today. I pray that they will now return.”

  If not, neither community may survive, Rimon thought. He had had so much work in Fort Freedom’s fields because they didn’t have the labor force to raise and harvest their cash crops with twenty per cent of the population trying to work their land independently—but if Fort Freedom was having problems, the dissenters were even worse off. They had only one advantage: Dan Whelan had been Fort Freedom’s blacksmith. Del, who would not go to Whelan over Carlana’s objections, complained constantly about the sloppy blacksmithing done by the woman in town, always comparing her to the woman Syrus Farris had running his smithy.

  Del and Carlana appeared about an hour before the ceremony, with their children freshly scrubbed and dressed in new clothes. Jana was a little angel in a yellow dress today, and Owen had a suit and cape like Del’s. Everyone else was neat and clean, but none wore new clothes except the bride and groom. There were no luxuries this year.

  As everyone was assembling before the chapel, the dissenters appeared. People made way for them, warily, silently. Dan Whelan led the group to the chapel door, where Abel was standing. Sara Fenell hung back somewhat. Rimon understood her conflict. She would always remember that her son had died trying what Willa would do today. If only Abel could make her look to the future instead of the past…

  Abel greeted everyone warmly. “We’re pleased that you’ve returned to share our joy in this day. Please come in, and send your children to the front of the chapel. We wish all the children to see what it can mean for Sime and Gen to be together.”

  Whelan stopped before Abel. “I said I’d come back and listen to you if you could prove to me that Simes could live without killing. I’m here to see that proof.”

  “Enter freely and be welcome,” said Abel.

  Families shooed their children into the front rows, hiding their own nervousness. It couldn’t be that they feared Jord would kill Willa—anyone who had seen them together must be well over that fear. But the questions would come now, from children who didn’t yet know of the kill, but who were old enough to have some idea of what they were witnessing.

  Jord was waiting at the front of the chapel, as far from the tensions of the congregation as possible. He was edgy, like a normal Sime in need, but his smile when Willa approached was quite genuine, and he relaxed visibly as she stood beside him.

  Abel took the lecture stand and briefly instructed the congregation that they must permit themselves to observe the transfer in duoconsciousness. Rimon felt the increased tension in Veritt’s staunchest supporters and the blatant disapproval in the little group around Sara Fenell.

  He remembered the first time they’d come into the chapel, how serene and healthy everyone, had seemed compared to their own hardened and unkempt appearance. Now, despite their impeccable grooming
, the people of Fort Freedom seemed gaunt with trial.

  As Abel spoke, trying to convince them it was no sin to use their Sime senses in the presence of God, there was a stirring of excitement—even hope—among them. Today would see the beginning of the end of their guilt. Their increasing hope seemed to double the load Rimon carried.

  Abel kept his remarks brief and to the point, not making the couple wait while he spun out philosophical theories. When he called Jord and Willa before him, he asked only for a short, silent prayer for the young couple embarking on a long life together.

  The other Simes in the chapel were excited, focusing intently on what was about to happen. Sara Fenell had her arms crossed, hugging herself. Dan Whelan folded his hands in his lap, but the knuckles were white. The Lassiters were clutching each other’s hands, tentacles retracted hard. Others knelt in prayer, eyes closed, but zilnning carefully.

  Rimon, too, closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away with relief as Willa gave to Jord, her joy almost outshining his. When he looked up again, he saw Willa looking up into Jord’s eyes with that same starry ecstasy she had shown after their first transfer. Around the room, disbelief fought with soaring hope. Many were crying. At the back of the chapel, where those in need had been seated, the door opened as some left hastily.

  A murmur of spontaneous prayer rose from the assembly, as everyone shared that moment with Willa and Jord, poised at the edge of post-syndrome. Rimon relived that first moment of disbelief with Kadi, when she had given him transfer and they had both found themselves alive afterward—that indescribable sensation that at last everything was all right. He felt it from Kadi—she must be sharing the same memory. He put his arm around her, and reached with his other hand to touch Zeth, binding them together.

  When the wave of emotion had ebbed, Abel broke his long silence to call Rimon and Kadi forward. They had the place of honor as witnesses while Abel performed the strange ceremony of vows that constituted the Fort Freedom pledge ceremony. Rimon had gathered that in Gen Territory his marriage to Kadi would not be recognized, because they had not pledged before witnesses—while Jord and Willa were now considered to be permanently married through the spoken words, and not through emotional commitment, living together, or having children.