First Channel s-3

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  “Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps, on the other hand, so long as one kills, there is no difference.” He studied Rimon thoughtfully. “I wonder what the true test is?”

  After that, Abel made no further protest against the experiment. “It’s in God’s hands,” he told Rimon.

  Rimon deliberately thrust his own doubts aside. Abel was rising to a challenge he expected to win—and Rimon wanted it for him. If he could not overcome his selfishness just one time, for the most selfless man he’d ever known, then he deserved any punishment Abel’s God could mete out.

  They told no one of their intentions. Rimon had meant to have Jord there to observe, but Abel’s son had fallen back into those eccentric mood swings that had preceded both his last kill and the scene at the birthday party. “I thought Jord’s crisis was past,” Rimon told Abel. “When he was prevented from attacking Hank and he accepted Willa’s transfer, I thought that was the end of it. He seemed so much better afterward.”

  “It was Willa’s decision,” Abel said, “not Jord’s. Apparently the final crisis was only forestalled. I’m praying daily with my son, Rimon. The next time, he’ll be prepared. I have faith that he’ll not fail again.”

  In the meantime, though, poor Willa had to bear the brunt of Jord’s instability. Still in the early months of pregnancy, she was able to give him transfer, but bewildered to find herself unable to control him as she was used to. From gleeful happiness at having a baby at last, she was plunged into the terrible anxiety of trying to deal with forces she could not understand.

  I know how she feels, thought Rimon, as the day approached when he’d promised Abel Kadi’s transfer. Abel’s hope carried throughout Fort Freedom—even though no one outside their small circle knew the plan, spirits were high.

  Everything was going well. The crops were growing lustily, as if to make up for last year. The Wild Gens, undoubtedly busy tending their own fields, remained on their own side of the border. The petition for recognition as a county was accepted and work began on the necessary census.

  And no children changed over.

  There were three to whom it could happen at any moment, and five younger but still within the possible range– but it seemed to Rimon as if nature were holding off until he found out if the experiment would work, if one Gen could provide transfer for more than one Sime.

  The day of the experiment, Rimon wanted Jord and Uel, both too sensitive to miss a transfer experiment a few houses away, well out of Fort Freedom. Thus he enlisted the aid of Del Erick, who, without asking what was going on, agreed to keep both Jord and Uel occupied. Uel’s need was still in phase with Abel’s; otherwise, Rimon would have had the boy there to observe—he was already incredibly steady, learning voraciously. Del quickly found the answer in Dan Whelan’s plan to tear down the row of dissenters’ houses along the creek and salvage the building materials for Fort Freedom. In the next town meeting, he managed to volunteer Jord and Uel, along with several other people as well as himself. Rimon watched his friend’s maneuverings with concealed delight—people might not remember how they got involved in the scheme, but would be certain that Rimon had nothing to do with it.

  Willa naturally went with Jord, and Hank with Uel. The final step was to send Margid Veritt, with Zeth “helping,” out with lunch for the workers. Del would enlist her aid at the scene, and keep her there until the all-clear was given. By this time, Del was flaring curiosity, but he told Rimon, “Unless whatever you’re plotting works, I don’t want to know about it.” But there was a painful tremor of hope in his nager, which renewed Rimon’s determination.

  And then, at the crucial moment, Rimon discovered that Abel had not collected a Gen from Slina’s pens. “I don’t intend to need one,” he explained.

  “Abel!” exclaimed Kadi. “Are you trying to frighten me? If we fail, you’ll be in no condition to make a trip into town. I won’t do it if there’s no Gen for you to fall back on.” She was clutching Rimon’s hands, as if drawing strength.

  Thinking perhaps it would be good to leave Kadi and Abel alone together for a while, Rimon said, “I’ll go to Slina’s and claim one for you.”

  “No,” Abel replied. “It’s my responsibility; I’ll make my claim—for the last time.”

  Abel’s certainty brought the weight of responsibility back onto Rimon’s shoulders. Abel’s dream had become his own dream—and yet he was not prepared for the test Abel was forcing on him, for he knew what Abel meant by “for the last time.” Either Rimon would make the experiment work —or Abel would die.

  He realized that Kadi had known that all along. His field affected hers as hers did his; he had to free her to serve Abel’s need—Abel’s life depended on it now.

  When Abel returned with the Gen, he said, “I’ll put him in the insulated room for now.”

  No, Abel would not call it a killroom. “Perhaps—” began Rimon, thinking the Gen should remain within easy reach. Something impinged on his consciousness. “What the—” lord Veritt, a cloud of anger and need, stormed up the porch steps and in through the front door. Rimon had not seen him for two days—had not realized that he must have been shorted this month because of Willa’s pregnancy, and was approaching need two or three days early.

  “Father, will you stop Willa and Mother from ganging up on me? Nag, nag, trying to run my life, never satisfied—”

  “lord!” Abel’s voice cut across lord’s tirade. “You will not speak that way of either your mother or your wife.”

  Rimon felt Kadi automatically try to resonate calm, but Jord was too used to righting off Willa’s efforts to be affected. Abel asked, “Where is Willa?”

  “Oh, back there stuffing herself, with the rest of the Gens. I suppose she’ll follow me soon enough—I can’t get rid of her.”

  But at Gen speed, it would take Willa some time to get here, and she was pregnant…

  “She can still give you transfer this month,” said Abel. “Come, I’ll take you to her.”

  Rimon marveled at Abel’s strength—at this critical moment, he would try to solve his son’s problems before his own.

  “I don’t want Willa!” said Jord. “All the damned women trying to control me, and she’s the worst. She thinks she owns me!”

  To find the strength to contend with his son, Abel was leaning on the nager of the Gen he led, becoming fixed on him. He was deeper into need than Jord, by several crucial hours. “Willa loves you. Everything she does is intended to help you.”

  “Help me—help me. You sound as stupid as she does. I don’t want Willa helping me—I don’t want her to touch me!”

  “Then what do you want, Jord? Do you want to kill again? Right now there’s no one who can keep you from killing except Willa. Go back to her, Jord.”

  “You have no right to order me around!” said Jord, pacing. “You, with your kill waiting—how can you tell me what I ought to do, when you can’t do it yourself!”

  Rimon was surprised at Abel’s answer. “I have no choice! You have. Do you want to choose, Jord? Here’s a choice for you: go back to Willa, or stay here and kill!” He shoved the Gen forward as Kadi gasped in horror. But Rimon saw that Abel actually expected Jord to walk away from that high-field Gen, his father’s Gen, as Rimon would have done.

  And incredibly, Jord was hesitating. Rimon suddenly saw what Abel saw: it was Jord’s test. A true test, when Jord was under no strain but need, and that not even at its greatest force. He’s going to make it! Rimon was swept up in Abel’s certainty as Jord remained frozen, his eyes fixed on the Gen that Abel had thrust before him. Seeing him, not zlinning him—yes, he was resisting the temptation– and then he broke!

  In a flash of augmentation, Jord grasped the Gen and had him in kill position before Abel could recover from his astonishment—and then Abel was on Jord, mad with the full fury of a Sime whose kill has been stolen. Rimon leaped to pull Abel off Jord as he lunged at his son’s neck, grasping him in a stranglehold that Rimon could not break, his hands and tentacles slip
ping over Abel’s as Jord fought to breathe and Rimon expected at any moment to hear the crunch of his neck breaking.

  But now Kadi came in from behind Jord, reaching for Abel’s arms, projecting the sweet promise that he would not be denied, all the strength of her field enveloping them.

  Abel’s need overcame his rage as he was touched by a Gen. He dropped Jord, who collapsed into Rimon’s arms as Abel’s fingers and tentacles whipped over Kadi’s flesh, pulling her toward him, not knowing her as anything but the life that had been denied him. As Rimon held tight rein on his frozen emotions, not daring to breathe lest he explode into insane jealousy again, she pressed her lips to Abel’s and let the selyn flow—a maddeningly tiny trickle, an itch, a torture that ran like fiery ants through Rimon’s nerves, too—unbearable—he wanted to scream as she had to scream to break contact—

  The shock of Abel’s shen ricocheted through Kadi to Rimon as her knees gave way. Abel fainted from the shock and crumpled with her. She struggled up, terror and guilt shattering her nager. “Rimon! I’ve killed Abel!”

  “Nol” No, there was life yet. “He’s alive, Kadi. Let me—”

  He scrambled over to where Abel lay, dying because Rimon had assured him, assured Kadi, that the experiment would work. My fault, my fault. Must I kill everyone I love? Think!

  Abel was deep in shock, as well as in need. But the Gen was dead. Never mind—help Abel. He went into healing mode, zlinning the bleak emptiness of need, the dark void threatening to swallow him. In healing mode, Rimon could project himself to Abel as a Gen, a promise of life to support his failing strength until they could get another Gen for him. Don’t die, Abel! You’ve always had more strength than the rest of us.

  But that strength was moral courage, not physical stamina. Now, in deep rapport with him, Rimon could sense the inroads two years of bad kills had made on his system. And that’s my fault, too.

  If I can bring him out of this, I’ll take Kadi and Zeth and go where no one will expect me to perform miracles, where I won’t kill anyone else.

  The strength of that decision eased his guilt enough to let him work, reaching into the depths of Abel’s need with the promise of life, drawing him back toward warmth and hope.

  Finally, he felt a stirring of response. Awakening in need, Abel was hyperconscious, reaching automatically to the source of life before him, grasping Rimon’s arms, pulling him into transfer position. Rimon did not resist, remaining in healing mode, projecting himself as a soothing Gen field to help Abel orient himself. Take as long as you want. Rest with me, Abel, until you have the strength to let go. You’re safe.

  But Abel could not do it. The shocks his system had just taken had weakened him so that if he were to survive, he had to have selyn now, and there was no one to give it except Rimon.

  Braced for pain, ready to force himself to allow Abel to fulfill his need if it killed him, he remained in healing mode to be Gen for Abel—to entice the draw that would heal the older Sime—after all, he didn’t require much selyn. The flow began, that momentary pleasant sensation, to be followed by—

  Abel’s draw increased, speeding, but not hurting. Compared to Rimon’s draw, or lord’s, it was slow—yet he sought something more than selyn. As they approached termination, with Abel still frantically unsatisfied, Rimon realized what was missing—the killbliss—the satisfaction that was equally pleasure and pain. As he thought of it, recalled it, the memory seemed to flow from him to Abel, satisfying the deepest need and at the same time whipping back into guilt—Abel’s standard reaction to a kill.

  But there should be no guilt. With a flick of his field like the fresh laughter of Hank and Uel, Rimon wiped out that emotion and drew Abel to hypoconsciousness. He broke contact, saying, “Abel! Come on! You’re all right! Everything is all right!”

  Abel opened his eyes, stared at Rimon, then down at his hands, still clasping Rimon’s arms as if he feared to let go. “You—! Rimon—that was you? I didn’t kill?”

  “You didn’t kill.”

  “A miracle! Another miracle—God be praised!” He burst into tears. “You have let me keep my vow!”

  Kadi was kneeling by Jord, who was groggily awake now. Wide-eyed, she asked, “Rimon—what did you do?”

  “I—” He paused to swallow as the enormity struck him. “I gave transfer to Abel.”

  “But how?”

  They were interrupted as the door was flung open and Willa ran in, breathless. “Jord!” she cried, falling to her knees beside him.

  “Don’t touch me!” he said. “I don’t deserve you, Willa– I’ve killed again.”

  By this time other people were entering—Uel, Hank, Zeth, Margid. Others were outside on the porch—everything had happened right here in the unshielded main room. Curious Simes were converging from every direction.

  Margid, finding her husband in tears, asked in a panic, “Abel! What’s happened?”

  “When I least deserved it,” he whispered, “when through my pride I had just provoked our son into killing—” Margid started, looking over to Jord and Willa in horror. Abel clutched her. “Margid! Jord killed—but I did not!”

  “What?” Her attention focused on her husband, taking in the fact that he was high-field.

  “I have sinned—pride, presumption, impatience. I goaded Jord into killing, and then would have murdered him in my despair—and at that moment God chose to show His infinite mercy. Rimon—”

  All eyes fixed on him. Rimon said, “Abel, it’s not a miracle. It’s just—a logical extrapolation of all the other things I’ve done. I just couldn’t see it!”

  Just then Del Erick entered, grimly pushing his way through the crowd, trailed by Carlana. “Rimon—can I help?”

  At Del’s anxiety, Rimon realized that no one knew what had happened. It was a frightening scene; the dead Gen, Abel on the floor with Margid worriedly examining him, Abel’s elation overshadowed by Jord’s self-loathing as he tried to get to his feet, hampered by Willa. But Del had come to help—always he came back, no matter how it hurt him.

  “Del, it’s all right!” Rimon told him. “We’ve found the answer!”

  “The… answer?”

  “I should have known all along,” Rimon said. “It’s what my selyn reservoir is for—to give to others!”

  Margid’s head snapped up. “You—gave transfer to Abel?”

  “Yes! And it didn’t hurt!” Oh no, it didn’t hurt—in fact, he was slowly becoming aware that he felt better than he had in months. He wasn’t meant to store that overbalance of selyn in his system—it was there to be given!

  As the slow surge of understanding in the other Simes bloomed into awe of Rimon, Jord’s nager showed his desperate desire to escape. He tugged away from Willa as if to go out toward the kitchen, but Abel stopped him with a word. “Jord—my son, forgive me.”

  “Forgive you? Father, I’m the one who killed today, and I don’t know why! I should have returned to Willa, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t!”

  “God’s ways are not always simple,” said Abel, picking himself up off the floor to face his son. “Your failure provoked Rimon into his discovery. But now we know, Jord. There will be no more killing in Fort Freedom.”

  “And how will you stop me next time?” Jord asked bitterly.

  “Rimon can stop you, as he stopped me—as you will stop others, Jord. God has blessed you with the same abilities Rimon has. Be thankful for the blessings God has granted to this community. Yes, be thankful even for your weakness, and mine, which forced Rimon Farris to discover the extent of his powers.”

  “Can you do it again, Rimon?” Kadi asked. “Do you know what you did?”

  “Yes!” he said in elation, plucking Zeth up and holding him close. “It’s healing mode, Kadi—the very first thing I learned after you freed me from killing. In healing mode, I can draw from Gens who are afraid without hurting them —and in healing mode, I can give that selyn to other Simes, and not be killed!”

  “Then I can learn it, too!”
said Uel Whelan. He turned to hug his father, then his mother. “I said I’d do it! I said I’d teach you not to kill. Now I can—in spite of being Sime —because I’m Sime—I can do it!”

  Abel said, “Yes, Uel, you can do it. Jord can do it. And Rimon—Rimon Farris, you are a channel of God’s grace from heaven.”

  “A channel of life!” said Del. He put his arm around Carlana and looked down at Owen and Jana, who had followed their parents in. When he looked back at Rimon, the pain was gone from his face, the wound of Billy’s death healed at last. “I could never have brought myself to touch Hank or any of the Gens you’re working with. Not after Billy. But if you can channel selyn to me, to all of us—then there’s a future worth living for!”

  “Pa—can I be a channel, too?” asked Owen.

  “Me, too! Me, too!” chimed in Jana.

  Del knelt to hug them both. “Maybe you will,” he said, “but it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that, Sime or Gen, you won’t kill—and you won’t be killed!”

  “Our prayers have been answered,” Abel agreed. “Come, let us go to the chapel. Someone ring the bell. We must tell everyone of this miracle, and give thanks to God, Who has forgiven all our sins, all our doubts. We must dedicate ourselves to the new way of life Rimon Farris has brought to us.”

  For the first time, Rimon was not even faintly embarrassed at the faith Abel placed in him. I can do it! Now I know I can do it! I’m in control of my own life at last– and I can teach others.

  Kadi at his side, Zeth in his arms, he listened with equanimity to the vow that had so frightened him the first time Abel had made it contingent upon him. He would see that Abel’s faith was ‘not misplaced—teach the young people, like Uel, and Zeth one day, so that no Sime would ever be forsworn if he vowed as Abel Veritt did, “As God is my witness, I shall not die a killer!”

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 626ddb8e-8fb0-4453-b2c8-abd83358ce06

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  Document creation date: 2005-10-09

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