Channel's Destiny s-5

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Owen had put down his half-eaten sandwich and was staring at Rimon as if waiting for a blow to fall. "I didn't mean to hurt Jord," he blurted out. "I was trying not to tempt him!"

  "I know," said Rimon. "Jord told us. It wasn't your fault, but from now on I'll take your donations."

  The tension drained out of Owen. "You're not going to send me away."

  "No, of course not," said Kadi.

  "But we must be more careful. I could throttle Jord," said Rimon. "After all that, daring to touch an out-Territory Gen—"

  "His sister," Kadi reminded him. "Tonight, with his family home, he was closer to normal than I've seen him in years."

  "Dad, he did suggest that Uel Whelan take her donation," Zeth said, "but Mrs. Carson wanted her brother to do it."

  Kadi took her husband's hand. "You know what a difference "love and trust make, Rimon."

  Zeth's father's sensitive lips curved in a reluctant smile. "I also know how dangerous it can be to rely on emotion rather than knowledge. But this time it worked. What a day!"

  "How's Mr. Veritt?" asked Zeth.

  "If I know Abel, he'll be up tomorrow, though my prescription would be a week in bed. Speaking of bed, why are you boys still up?"

  "We were hungry," Zeth explained.

  "Well, finish up and get to bed," said Rimon. He started to leave, turned back, and looked puzzledly at his son. "Zeth– before Mrs. Carson came, did Abel have a chance to tell you . . . ?"

  "He told me."

  "Rimon," said Kadi, "Zeth's tired. Don't make him think about that now. Zeth, you get some rest, and we'll talk when you're ready."

  "I don't have to talk about it," said Zeth. "I understand."

  "He really does," said Owen. "I said . . . some awfully dumb things a while ago. I don't think a channel could have made me see more clearly than Zeth did how wrong I was."

  Kadi Farris' blue eyes swam with tears. "You mean on top of everything else, you had to counsel Owen, Zeth?"

  "I'm sorry," said Owen. "I was so scared you were going to send me away that I didn't even think about Zeth's problems."

  "Our son is growing up," Kadi said proudly.

  Zeth felt himself blushing. "Maybe I am," he said, "but I'm not sure if I like it!"

  The next day the one-channel-always-at-Farris rule was suspended, as the entire community of Fort Freedom poured into the Old Fort. There was a thanksgiving service, led by Jord Veritt, as Abel was still recuperating. Zeth heard more than one person speculate that Mrs. Veritt must have locked him in.

  Mrs. Carson and Marji were the center of attention, as everyone had questions about friends and relatives across the border. .As people found out who had married, who had children—and who had died or disappeared—Mrs. Carson's wagon piled up with presents, and messages.

  Marji Carson, congratulated on every side for what she had always thought of as being cursed, answered politely but vaguely, one eye on her mother as if asking permission to speak to Simes. Mrs. Carson was surrounded by Companions, unobtrusively shielding her. Zeth wondered if she had any notion why his mother, or Anni Steers, or Trina Morgan, was constantly by her side.

  Children Zeth's age and younger came to stare at the strangers, but soon ran off to play games. Like Zeth, they were too young to remember anyone who had crossed the border to Gen Territory. The younger Simes and Gens went to set up the tables for the feast. Jana, Owen's sister, went along to help, but neither Owen nor Zeth wanted to join them.

  Owen hung around Mrs. Carson, listening. Zeth wondered if he was trying to act like a Companion, until there was a lull in the conversation. Then Owen asked hesitantly, "Mrs. Carson ... do you know a Gen family named Lodge?"

  "Lodge? Not in our village—but there's a big ranch run by a Glian Lodge."

  Owen's blue eyes widened. "That's my uncle!"

  "I've never met him," said Mrs. Carson,' "though I've seen him at market day. He's a big blond, like you. And rich."

  Owen laughed. "I'm rich, too—or my pa is. Del Erick. We raise the best horses in the Territory."

  "Erick? But you said Lodge?"

  "I can hardly remember my father," Owen explained, "but his name was Owen Lodge. That's my name, too– Owen Lodge Erick. Ma married Del Erick when I was just a little boy. He's been my father all my life, it seems."

  "Perhaps Mr. Erick has relatives across the border, but I don't know anyone by that name."

  "No—Pa came from in-Territory. And Ma always said she was the last of her family. Bresson. Carlana Bresson."

  "Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Carson. "That's why you look so familiar. Those eyes. Just like your mother's."

  "That's what everyone says. Did you know her?"

  "Not very well. She had just come to Fort Freedom when I left. But I remember how beautiful she was. Your father must have come here after I left."

  Other people wanted to talk with Mrs. Carson, so Owen drifted away, Zeth following, Patches at his heels. Zeth wondered if Owen was remembering his real parents.

  But Owen sat down on the steps of the Veritt house, saying, "There's something funny, Zeth. All those years, Fort Freedom sent Gens to that community across the border. And a lot of them got there, according to Mrs. Carson. But no Simes have come back."

  "Well . . . Mrs. Carson was one of the first to be sent,

  wasn't she? And her daughter's just old enough for changeover now. The others' children must still be too young.

  "What about other people's children? There's a whole village of Gens—not just people from Fort Freedom. Why didn't they tell people about us?"

  Patches butted his head against Zeth's knee for attention. He bent and hugged the dog as support against what he had to say. "Mrs. Carson said they'd have beaten Marji to death. They don't have channels or Companions, Owen. A new Sime always kills. Even Mrs. Carson thought Marji was possessed by a demon."

  "But still she brought her here," said Owen. "If people over there know, how can they not tell their children?"

  The door opened, and Hank Steers cane out onto the porch. Both boys immediately demanded, "How's Mr. Veritt?"

  "Margid's helping him dress. He insists he's going to the feast."

  "Dad said he would," Zeth commented.

  "Yeah—that's Abel," Hank agreed, sitting down on the top step. "I heard you boys. You've never lived in Gen Territory. You don't know the fear the very idea of a Sime evokes—or the hatred. If your child turns Sime, he's not your child."

  "In-Territory people think Gens are animals," said Zeth. "Still, folks show their kids the way to the border."

  "Sure," said Hank. "If you're Sime, and your child is Gen, he's turned into something fragile and helpless."

  Both boys laughed, for everyone knew Gens were tougher than Simes.

  "No, no," said Hank, "not the Companions. Think of the new Gens at Farris, before they learn not to fear, in danger from people who love them. And outside Fort Freedom, Gens are fair game, so if parents feel anything but disappointment, it's that their child is in danger unless he can cross the border.

  "But in Gen Territory—Zeth, you .saw it yesterday. Marji would have killed her own mother. Few people who see a Sime in Gen Territory live to tell about it. The only Simes they ever see are berserkers or Freehand Raiders. Or hunting parties."

  Hank did not elaborate, but Zeth knew that he had been brought in-Territory by a Sime hunting party. "I was taught," the young Companion continued, "that the only way to deal with a Sime was to murder him before he killed you. I don't

  think you kids born here have any idea of Mrs. Carson's courage in loading her child on that wagon and heading for the border."

  "No," said Owen, "I guess we can't imagine how they feel. But what will happen when they hear what's happened in Fort Freedom? Especially the ones who came from here?''

  Zeth saw the faraway look in Owen's eyes. But before he could say anything, Abel Veritt came out onto the porch, leaning heavily on his wife. Hank jumped up and went to take his other arm. "Abel, you're really
in no condition to go out."

  Mr. Veritt gave him a weak smile. "Nonsense. I've just had another dose of fosebine. The worst I can do is fall asleep in the middle of the festivities." He looked toward the two boys now standing on the steps. "Zeth . . .son, I have you to thank that my daughter is alive, and my granddaughter did not kill. May God bless you for your courage ... and protect you from ever being so foolhardy again."

  "Thank you," Zeth said uncertainly, but was rescued from further embarrassment by other people surrounding the Veritts.

  The two boys hung back to let the crowd pass. Then Owen said, "I've got to find Pa."

  "Why?" asked Zeth.

  "Look at that wagon. Did you see the stack of messages? I want to go with Mrs. Carson. Living proof, Zeth! I want to see Gen Territory—and then I'll bring back messages. And I'll tell all the young people there how to get here if they have to.'' And he hurried off to find his father.

  As Zeth watched him go, a strange, numb feeling spread through his body. It's just one trip, he told himself. He doesn't want to go over there to live.

  But the sense of celebration had gone out of the day.

  Chapter 5

  If only he wouldn't be so blame blasted Independent!

  Zeth often found himself thinking that, angrily, in the days that followed. Ever since that day of the raid, he had given all his strength to making Owen fend for himself.

  But as the days passed after Owen left Fort Freedom, Zeth began to realize what that meant. His friend, an adult Gen, had to leave him behind just as a Sime left his childhood friends behind. Zeth finally let the unthinkable thought surface. Will he stay in Gen Territory?

  One day when Owen had been gone for two weeks, Zeth encountered Marji after lunch, sitting on the back porch. She was depressed, caught up again in the teachings of her former spiritual leader, Mr. Bron, who held that Simes were possessed by demons.

  "Marji, it's turnover depressing you," Zeth told her. "I've seen Simes possessed by evil—those two who cut off Owen's arm. If you'd seen that, and compared them to people like your grandfather—"

  A stern voice interrupted from the top of the steps. "What's going on out here?"

  It was Kadi Farris. She came swiftly down the steps and sat on Marji's other side. "What's wrong, Marji? Turnover?"

  Marji jerked her head in a reluctant assent, then began visibly relaxing as the field of a skilled Companion did its work. She asked in wonder, "How can you tell?"

  "Gen secret, as Hank likes to say." She smiled the radiant smile Zeth loved. "Actually, Marji, I haven't the least idea how I do it—I just let it happen. Now, what has my insensitive son been doing to upset you so?"

  Marji shook her head. "It's not Zeth. I expected to hear from home by now. I guess I'm afraid of bad news."

  Zeth's mother said positively, "If Owen had been thrown out, he'd be home by now."

  "If no one got him along the way," said Zeth gloomily.

  His mother frowned at him. "I'd stake Owen against the Border Patrol any day!"

  As his mother took Marji into the house, Zeth decided to take his new horse out for some exercise. He whistled for Patches and went out to the barn to saddle up.

  The bay filly had been a birthday present from the Bricks, although it was Jana who had presented her, saying, "She's from Owen, too, you know." But Owen had missed Zeth's eleventh birthday party, and the surprise party for Abel Veritt, too.

  Zeth had named the horse Star, thinking, Now I can keep up with Owen wherever he goes! And then he remembered Owen was an adult, and he was just a kid. It would be that way forever!

  Zeth remembered how he had felt just before Owen left– the irrational, total conviction of his imminent changeover. That conviction, more than anything, had sustained him as Owen struck for independence. Now that certainty of impending changeover had deserted him, and he felt lost.

  He walked Star out of the barn, then turned onto the road and gave her an easy warmup until they were cantering breezily along the road. Patches ran ahead or behind, darting off to chase rabbits, barking joyfully.

  Zeth was deep in his own thoughts. This is why Dad always says it's bad to get too dependent on a certain person. Of course, Rimon Farris was referring to the dependence of a Sime on a certain Gen, or vice versa. But this is how it must feel. I'm afraid of losing Owen. In changeover class, they'd taught him that that was the way a Sime in need felt about a Gen he'd fixed on. It was what made a Sime attack, strip selyn by force from the Gen—and kill.

  The specter rose before his eyes—Owen dead, white and drained falling from Zeth's own hands.

  No! I won't.

  The walls of Fort Freedom loomed before him, the gate lookout hailing him with a friendly wave. Unable to think of anything else, he said, "I came to talk to Mr. Veritt."

  "He's at his house!" called the lookout, and Zeth walked Star on into the circle of clean, white houses. Mrs. Veritt was on her front porch, hemming a dress.

  "Hello, Mrs. Veritt," said Zeth, getting down from his horse. "Is Mr. Veritt home?"

  "Yes, but he's about to go into town," she replied, just as her husband came out.

  "Hello, Zeth, can I help you with something?" Abel Veritt appeared completely recovered.

  "I ... just wanted to talk."

  "If it's something we can talk about on the road, how about riding into town with me?"

  Zeth accepted eagerly—children were not allowed to go into the town across the creek except with an adult.

  Slina, Mr. Veritt explained, had a Gen she didn't want killed. "It's getting harder on her every year," he said sadly. "Someone has to run the local pen, and Slina does it as humanely as possible. I suppose she can manage as long as there are those who have need of it." He abruptly changed the subject. "Well, Zeth, what did you want to talk about?"

  If it's Marji's turnover, thought Zeth with sudden insight– "It's your turnover day! I'm sorry, Mr. Veritt!"

  The old man smiled. "You're very sensitive, son. Usually no one notices but the channels. Let's talk about you, not me."

  "But that's just it. Turnover. Need. I ... I don't think I want to be Sime!" It was out before he thought. If any Sime hated being in thrall to his selyn system, it was Abel Veritt.

  As if reading his mind, the old man said, "Your father will see to it that you don't kill, Zeth. Then you'll learn control. Look at Del—not even your father notices Uel's turnover. Hank always knows, but I'm certain he just keeps count, as part of his job."

  Hank and Uel. All his life Zeth had heard the two spoken of in one breath, like bread-and-honey. "But what if Hank died or something?"

  "Merciful God!" said Veritt, pulling his horse up short, whitelipped with shock.

  "I'm sorry," Zeth said hastily. He didn't know where his manners had gone. Things just came blurting out. "It's just that I don't see how anyone can be sure of anything in life." That wasn't what he meant to say, either. He bit his tongue, afraid to make it worse.

  With studied calm, the old man urged his horse up beside Star. The hot summer sun glared down from a cloudless sky. A lark took flight and Patches ran off, barking merrily.

  "I understand how you feel, Zeth," said Veritt quietly. "It's a feeling no Sime can escape save for a few blessed moments after—a transfer."

  "It doesn't mean I'm going to be Sime, though."

  "No," agreed Veritt, more readily than Zeth wanted him to. "There's no way to know that until the first sign of changeover, or establishment." He sighed. "You tempt me to my worst fault, son—presuming to know God's will. Yet He has allowed me to know it at times. He allowed me to recognize your father. Our community must have other such channels, and you may be one. My granddaughter is also a channel, though. She will require—and need—a Companion."

  "She's getting along fine with Trina."

  "For now. But if you should establish, Zeth, you'll inherit your mother's abilities. She brought your father to his current capacity. There is a direct relationship between capacity and sensitivity�
��ask Rimon to explain it."

  "You think maybe I was meant to be Marji's Companion?"

  "Perhaps. Or perhaps you'll both be channels. God does not act without purpose—even if it's sometimes difficult to discern that purpose. He does not offer us certainty, Zeth, but observing His moves, we can find confidence and security in the goodness of His purpose. Whatever happens, it is for the best—when you've placed your trust in God."

  But have I? Zeth always felt uncomfortable when Mr. Veritt spoke of his God. His parents respected the strange beliefs of Fort Freedom, but taught that the Creator of the world required nothing of man but to know Him through His works, and gave nothing to man but the capacity to gain such knowledge.

  "I think I placed my trust in God when I prayed for Owen to be Gen. But I don't see what good it's done him—or me. I know you've placed your trust in God-I tried to tell Marji that when she was going on about you being a demon. But—I don't see what good it's done you. You still—oh, shen!" He's in need. Why can't I remember that!

  Veritt didn't even admonish him for his language, though. "What's this about Marji?"

  Zeth recounted his brief conversation with her after lunch. "You're not possessed by any evil spirit!"

  "Yes, you are right. The need to kill comes from within me—not from any outside entity. I alone am responsible for the fact that despite years of effort I remain joined to the kill."

  "Joined—?"

  "While I've been recovering these last two weeks, I found it hard to zlin. The nerve-burn made me hypersensitive and it was like coming out of a dark cave into bright sunlight every time I went hyperconscious. But when I did zlin other Simes, I found a ... thread ... a characteristic binding all of us who have been unable to turn wholly to channel's transfer."

  "How come my dad never noticed?" asked Zeth.

  Veritt shook his head. "He took it for granted. He's zlinned it all along; when I pointed it out to him, his reaction was, so what? Perceiving a common characteristic in the nager of all Simes who kill is no help in teaching them not to kill."