The Farris Channel

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Solamar didn’t want to add more layers of deception and misdirection to his biography. “And other places,” he temporized dropping his showfield to invite Rimon to zlin him deeply for the truth of that.

  Rimon declined the deeper examination. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Solamar. I just simply don’t believe it. Who could know such things? Where? How?”

  “High in the mountains beyond Fort Faraway, where there are so few people there are no Territory borders between Sime and Gen, there’s a community where Ancient books have been preserved by copying. They’ve trained some people from such books, and a few have developed odd talents. One of those people taught me a few things, but I never learned it all. I never expected anything I’d learned to touch off some such explosion in another person. All I can do is tell you what I know and what I suspect, and hope we can experiment until something works.” It was true as far as it went, but didn’t mention he hadn’t grown up in Fort Faraway.

  Now Rimon was zlinning him more deeply. Solamar opened himself, looked up into the tall channel’s eyes and waited for the verdict.

  “This lore you picked up secondhand suggests that people who wander away from their bodies by accident have to go wandering on purpose to be cured?”

  “You have to gain control of it, like any new channel’s functional you discover. It’s a capacity you’ve developed, not an injury. It takes practice to control it. If you practice, you won’t keep pulling me into your dreams.”

  “I’m doing that?”

  “Well I didn’t resist because I feel so guilty about this mess. Still, I’m glad I saw Clire. Rimon, I don’t think she’s a ghost. I don’t think she’s dead. I saw her so clearly because she’s wandering out of her body as you’ve been.”

  “What we did on the wall affected Clire too?”

  He shrugged. “Here she is invading your dreams.”

  “Could it have affected Lexy too then?”

  “I haven’t seen any sign of that. Have you?” I haven’t searched for any.

  Rimon leaped up and paced, tugged his ear with two tentacles. “Maybe I should ask Garen.”

  “He’ll probably tell you to talk to her.” Companions rarely discussed their channel’s affairs with others.

  Rimon laughed. “You’re right. I’ll talk to her. It’s still odd to think of her as an adult.”

  We’re the same age. He sat up straighter. “So, since there’s no benefit for us to sit here and lace the ambient with our various guilts as if we were both in hard Need, why don’t we just do a little exerci....”

  “Rimon!” called Garen pelting down the hall. He flung the door open. “BanSha’s in changeover!” He was gone on some urgent errand. Running was not allowed inside the buildings.

  CHAPTER TEN

  OPINIONS

  The building rang with reaction to Garen’s nageric shout more than the word that BanSha was in changeover. Solamar felt the happiness, the relief there would be another channel overwhelming other responses from the Fort Rimon natives. BanSha was one of them.

  Solamar fell into step with Rimon. They raced along the hall, down the stairs, around to the changeover room. It was still littered with items owned by a family that had camped there until they moved to their new house yesterday.

  As they slid into the room, Lexy was arguing with BanSha. He stood clutching a basin, digging the toe of one worn shoe into the carpet. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he zlinned nauseated but happy.

  As always when entering Lexy’s presence, Solamar discovered her anew and it threw him into fantasies where he could spend long evenings and whole nights alone with her. “Beautiful” is such an inadequate word.

  “No, BanSha, you will not be able to work as a channel tomorrow,” said Lexy in her most patient voice. Then she switched to teasing. “Why have we spent five years teaching you if you’ve forgotten everything you’ve learned!” She felt Solamar’s regard and tossed him a nageric grin that warmed his soul. “You still have all of your First Year training, and that means a lot of study.”

  “But this is an emergency like in the stories of Fort Freedom....”

  Rimon declared, “Not that much of an emergency. We’ll find useful but boring chores for you.”

  BanSha spun and saw Rimon and Solamar, drew himself to his full height, and smirked. “I know, holding the fields and all that. I can be a big help.”

  “In a little while,” added Rimon, “you’ll know what a field is, but not how to hold one, nevermind a lot together.”

  “I can’t wait!” squeaked BanSha. “Solamar, don’t forget you promised to teach me too.”

  Solamar had nearly forgotten his first encounter with this short, spunky and helpful child. If he could retain his spirit into adulthood, he could be a cornerstone of the Fort. “Yes, BanSha, I will do for you whatever Rimon and Lexy want me to.” He raised his eyebrows at Lexy, zlinning her as he asked, “And who has been chosen to be the lucky Companion for this young channel?”

  While Solamar inspected her fields for signs she had experienced what Rimon was going through, Bruce stumbled into the room. The sole of one shoe had flapped loose.

  The Gen gracefully wrapped his burgeoning fields around himself, sidling carefully up to Rimon. “Sorry,” he apologized. “BanSha, you should have told someone!”

  “I did. Lexy. She was on duty. It was fun trying to get her alone without Xanon noticing!”

  Fun? “Xanon’s here?” asked Solamar who had volunteered to work with him. “He should be sleeping.”

  Rimon laughed, filling the room with his admiration for Solamar’s coping with Xanon. “Well, you aren’t.”

  Everyone stared at Rimon, but it was such pure Del Rimon Farris there was nothing to say. BanSha was aware of all the silent subtext he was missing.

  Solamar returned the admiration, interpreting for BanSha, “Guilty! I’m overworking, doing exactly what I told Xanon not to do, exactly what you do.” He changed the subject back again, “So which of our trainees gets the honor of being BanSha’s Companion?”

  “It’s BanSha’s honor,” countered Bruce. “And you, young man, will have to work hard to earn the full attention of,” he glanced at Solamar, “Rushi.”

  Rimon’s approval filled the room.

  Solamar grinned at BanSha. “Oh, and I do think she likes you already.”

  “Rushi,” whispered BanSha with reverence. “Wow, I’m going to work with Rushi? I’m getting a Tanhara Companion? And she already knows everything!”

  “Well she’s ready to give your First Transfer. She just went with Fengal to the Glasil’s to deliver Melina’s baby. She’ll be here as soon as the baby comes which shouldn’t be long now. We’ll see how your First Transfer goes with her before deciding the future.”

  “I know, I heard about Melina. I’ll be good with Rushi,” promised BanSha. Then his face fell. “How will I explain this to all the others who wanted me?”

  Rimon said, “Until you’re out of First Year, it won’t be your choice and all your friends know that. Meanwhile, Bruce or I’ll do any explaining necessary.”

  “And now,” announced Bruce, “we should clear this room and let BanSha get ready for a very long night.”

  Zlinning, Rimon judged, “Maybe not so very long. Zlin that, Lexy?”

  BanSha’s knees collapsed and he bent double panting.

  Lexy and Rimon caught him and deposited him and his basin on the bed. Extra blankets were piled at the bottom of the bed, for though the first stages of changeover brought on an elevated temperature, preparing the body for the Sime’s higher body temperature, the third stage often produced teeth chattering chills.

  Usually the transitions between stages seized the victim with unpredictable symptoms. As BanSha recovered from the weakness of the stage two transition, he adjusted rapidly to the changes in his body. Now tentacles and the nerves to serve them were developing. He was still sweating and panting, but somehow enjoying his miseries.

  Watching the child, So
lamar fell in love with Fort Rimon all over again. Any place that could nurture such a spirit had home written all over it.

  Bruce said, “Out now. BanSha has to change clothes before he ruins what he’s wearing.”

  Solamar, Rimon and Lexy retreated so they could dress BanSha in the now traditional yawal, the simple white smock usually worn by Gens bred and raised in Pens and sold for the Kill. The garment had come to symbolize the child’s dedication to a life without Killing.

  As they left, BanSha shouted, “My yawal! Mine!”

  Solamar, muttered. “He really hates being a child!”

  “That about sums it up,” replied Lexy.

  Rimon said, “Bruce, I’ll be back and bring you another pair of shoes.” He started to shut the door.

  While all of them were observing Bruce’s careful non-reaction to that, out of nowhere, a form running under high augmentation, bent double, scooted under Rimon’s extended arm and into the changeover room spreading a roiling black cloud of Need. It was Tuzhel.

  Behind Tuzhel ran Xanon arms outstretched. He grabbed for the young renSime junct in the grip of hard Need but missed. Surprise shattered the ambient.

  Unable to stop in time, Xanon knocked Rimon into the door. It swung into the room. Xanon spun sideways to avoid falling, and blew the fields. Rimon staggered but held the fields as Lexy caught him. Tuzhel dodged Bruce’s grab and dived onto BanSha’s bed to kneel zlinning his friend. Maigrey arrived behind Xanon but stopped without hitting anyone. The patchwork of shifting fields finally righted.

  “It’s true!” screeched Tuzhel. You’re changing over! You zlin all crazy.” The junct hugged BanSha. “You’ll give me transfer tomorrow!”

  Xanon plunged across the room, intent on gathering the junct away from the channel in changeover. Bruce stopped him with a solid nageric wall of denial.

  Rimon said, “Xanon, wait! BanSha, what have you told Tuzhel?”

  “I didn’t.... Not...um, well I did say when I learned how, I’d give him the best transfers, and I will. I’m going to study so hard....”

  Xanon decreed, “BanSha, you will be a non-junct channel. You will not be giving transfer to....”

  Rimon joined his nager to Bruce’s creating a wall that startled Xanon to silence. Solamar marveled, then was dazzled when Lexy and Maigrey joined to protect both BanSha and Tuzhel from Xanon’s ire. From his vantage at the side of the effect, he zlinned BanSha and Tuzhel on the bed as well as Xanon transfixed in the center of the room.

  “Xanon, we’ll explain the facts of channeling assignments to BanSha once he can zlin what happens during a transfer.”

  “Tuzhel can zlin already,” said BanSha. “Can he stay and watch me change over? He wants to zlin a non-junct First Transfer and I told him he could watch me. Well, that is if Rushi agrees.”

  “Rushi?” asked Tuzhel suddenly very alert.

  BanSha sat up grinning. “My Companion!”

  “Who is as much a trainee as you are, BanSha. It’s not her decision to make,” said Rimon firmly.

  “Good, now that that’s clear,” started Xanon.

  Rimon said, “I will decide on BanSha’s behalf.”

  Xanon froze his field. “Come on Tuzhel, you belong in your room until after your transfer tomorrow. You must learn discipline if you are ever to disjunct.”

  “Val said you aren’t in charge of me today. Fengal is.” The air congealed with Tuzhel’s distrust heavily laced with fear and all of it carried on the throbbing darkness of Need. The ex-Raider had no intention of going with Xanon.

  The Farrises had Xanon nagerically walled away from Tuzhel so Xanon couldn’t zlin Tuzhel’s Need grow from his burst of augmentation. Xanon started, “Fengal went....”

  “Xanon,” warned Rimon underscored nagerically, “There’s no point arguing with a renSime in hard Need.”

  “He’s not in hard Need yet. His transfer is still more than a day away. He’s just....”

  In unison, Rimon and Lexy dropped their showfields, shunting Bruce’s and Maigrey’s fields aside. Like parting a curtain, they let Xanon zlin.

  To his credit, Xanon flipped his showfield to neutral to protect the disjuncting renSime. But Solamar didn’t zlin the reaction he expected to Tuzhel’s condition. A channel should feel sympathy for any Sime in that condition.

  Tuzhel scrambled over BanSha and plastered himself against the wall. BanSha rose on his knees to shelter his friend. Solamar felt the junct’s effort to deny his Need, as if it were merely rising intil. Tuzhel’s fear of Xanon made every cell in Solamar’s body yearn to serve that Need. And such intense Need so close to a channel in changeover could produce complications.

  Rimon and Lexy blocked Xanon off again, while Rimon stepped to the bedside. So smoothly Solamar barely understood what was happening, Rimon touched his belt buckle with one hand and shifted his showfield to become a ripe, glowing, bright Gen with a warm, welcoming, attitude. He offered the abundance of selyn to the Sime in Need.

  Solamar helped Lexy block Xanon. Rimon is becoming dependent on that belt. Bruce grasped Rimon’s intent and focused on his channel. Maigrey shifted to full focus on Xanon. Lexy adjusted the fields to give Rimon a small null-field zone to work in.

  Solamar watched Rimon avidly. He had never mastered the knack of giving a disjunct channel the surge of Gen pain and fear they craved at the end of a transfer so he was always eager to observe non-junct channels doing it.

  Rimon held his hands out, tentacles extended toward the junct, inviting with his fields. The instant Tuzhel started toward Rimon, the channel inserted a flash of terror into his Gen projection. Tuzhel attacked in helpless reflex and Rimon let feigned terror become a scream of panic.

  Tuzhel’s handling tentacles lashed about Rimon’s, and Rimon twined his laterals around Tuzhel’s lateral tentacles in a standard channel’s grip. A flicker of nageric brilliance carrying a searing crescendo of Gen pain and it was over.

  Then Tuzhel’s junct nervous system discovered the fear had been phony, the “Gen” was not dead, and his own body just not satisfied. It would have been satisfying enough for a disjunct, thought Solamar.

  With BanSha looking on awestruck, Tuzhel donned his bravest demeanor and smirked proudly at BanSha. “See? That’s how it’s done. That’s all there is to it. You’ll be able to do that. Maybe not next month, but soon.”

  Solamar zlinned Tuzhel’s deep sob of anguished loss, and the slamming headache of Kill deprivation that had the youngster frowning. His back muscles were spasming and nerve impulses weren’t getting through to his knees.

  Rimon lifted the junct from the bed to the floor, using the interpenetration of body fields to soothe the backlash for the renSime. “Now that you’re not in Need, you may stay with BanSha, if that’s what you both would like. You’ve certainly earned it, Tuzhel, by giving BanSha a valuable lesson in the channel’s art.”

  “He can stay?” whispered BanSha. “Really?”

  “If he still wants to.”

  Solamar zlinned the junct’s anticipation of staying with his friend override his personal misery.

  Behind the nageric wall Lexy had built in the ambient, Xanon seethed with astonished outrage and a dozen other emotions blurred behind the nageric shroud Maigrey created.

  Both Farrises moved as one to sweep Xanon out of the room before his ire disturbed BanSha.

  Bruce shooed Solamar after them, and the door closed leaving him in the hall with Lexy, Maigrey, Xanon and Rimon. Down the hall, the late night shift was all astir preparing for the changeover party they would hold in the dining hall after BanSha’s First Transfer.

  Solamar and Lexy positioned themselves with Maigrey and Rimon to contain Xanon’s irate nager.

  Xanon regarded Rimon silently.

  Rimon said, “Would you expect the Council to decide when to give Tuzhel transfer?”

  “He wasn’t due until tomorrow. How can you expect him to disjunct if he doesn’t learn to defer gratification?”

  “He’s learning. H
is disjunction won’t be impaired.”

  The opposite, thought Solamar. Rimon’s decision won the love and loyalty of both the young people.

  “That is a judgment for the channeling staff to make,” conceded Xanon. “But the Council is debating the trustworthiness of all the disjuncts within these walls as well as the place an ex-Raider might have. What to do about the disjunct population will be a Council decision.”

  Solamar and Rimon exchanged astonished stares with Lexy and Bruce. Their hesitation disconcerted Xanon.

  Solamar asked, “Do you suppose news of this Council debate had reached Tuzhel when he was in Need?”

  Understanding dawned in Rimon’s nager. “Oh, I’m certain it did. If there’s one thing a disjunction candidate is vulnerable to its fear of rejection after disjunction.”

  Though Rimon was opaque to Solamar, he could read Xanon’s nager to the core. Xanon had no idea what Rimon felt and no intention of delivering anything Rimon wanted.

  Rimon’s ventral tentacles drummed on the belt buckle. He locked eyes with Xanon. Solamar watched the tentacles but eyed Rimon’s expression. Could Rimon be so afraid of sliding out of his body during a channel’s functional that it might impair his judgment?

  Xanon spun on his heel and headed for the latrine exit at the end of the hall. Maigrey was caught flat-footed. Holding the door, Xanon glanced over his shoulder at her. She looked to Rimon who nodded. She followed her assigned channel. Xanon noticed her reluctance though.

  Solamar hoped that would unsettle Xanon enough that he’d reassess his position. “Rimon, I’d like to talk to Val about finding someone else for Xanon.”

  Rimon nodded. “Me, too. But if Val assigns someone who agrees with Xanon, we won’t know what he’s up to.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. I’m not cut out to stand in your shoes.”

  He felt Lexy assessing him. “Don’t be too sure of that, Solamar. It’s amazing how fast some people learn.”