“I don’t know—I thought we’d get that this month, but I must have disappointed them terribly.”
They lay side by side on the wide bed, his foot hooked under her calf, her hand playing with his hair. Vret felt her misery surface from under the cloud of ease and comfort they had generated together. He muttered, “It can’t be your fault!”
“It is.”
He hitched up on his elbow to look at her more closely. “What’s wrong, Ilin? What’s happened?”
“I didn’t pass my Farris Screening. They’re not going to let me try for Second this year after all. They were all nice about it—saying I would have another chance next year, but the deal is that I’ll graduate Rialite as a Third.” She rolled away from him, whispering into the pillow, “They have no idea how long a year is!”
Her anguish brought up the specter of failure for him, as real and tangible as it could be. It was as if he, himself, had been told he would not be allowed to Qualify. “But you said they were very pleased with your performance in the Accelerated Development work.”
“That’s what they said!” The dam burst and her silent anguish turned to post-syndrome sobs of unutterable guilt, remorse, and soul-paralyzing grief. It was only three days since her transfer, but she shouldn’t still be in this condition.
Vret wrapped himself around her back, scooping her into the crook of his body, stroking her abdomen with his tentacles. In moments, he was grunting out his own sobs and moans of loss and sorrow, of failure, of disillusionment over his own identity. And none of it was his own.
Still, his vriamic control deserted him, his selyn laden systems ran amok, his nager burgeoned outward reinforcing her misery, and her misery came back to him multiplied, fueling his own anguish.
Together they were helpless in the whirlwind of augmented emotion ripping at the center of consciousness.
A tiny thought erupted into Vret’s awareness—ever so small a thought at the very back of his mind. This is why they don’t let us choose our post-syndrome partners yet. We can’t control this.
But there was no one to help them. Vret focused his attention inside himself at the spot that had sent him that one little, sane thought. He found a purchase, and began to drag his raging emotions to a stop, to haul it all inside, to bring his showfield under conscious control.
It was almost impossible to make himself want to do it, to believe he could, in fact, do it, to know that he wasn’t helpless—but once started, he found he had strength he’d never known was there.
As his showfield finally responded to vriamic control, the escalating storm within her subsided, and they retraced the path they had traveled into this storm.
Sometime later all was quiet for them, within and without. Eyes gritty, throats raw, muscles aching in places that never ached before, they lay nested together, welded together on so many levels he couldn’t assess them all.
Eventually, Ilin turned over and Vret moved back to give them both room to lie supine and just breathe. “Vret, what happened?”
“Some kind of emotional positive feedback loop?”
“How did you make it stop?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it just wore itself out.”
“I feel better. Nothing’s changed. My wonderful historical fiction project is a burgeoning disaster that may cost lives. My ambition to Qualify Second is in ashes. There are so many Thirds applying for the Troubleshooter Training that I surely won’t be chosen. I’m not going to have any kind of career in the Tecton. I’m such a failure, I’d be better off dead—and my parents will disown me for sure once I get out of here. All that is still true. But somehow it’s not the end of the world anymore.”
Yes, that about summed it up. “We still have our plan. If it works, we can salvage something from it all.”
“Half hour ago, I wouldn’t have given it a porpoise’s chance on the desert sands. But right now, I can see it does have a chance, and it’s the only thing that does.” She twisted to sit up and look down at him. “You know what changed my mind?”
He flicked a nageric interrogative and waited.
“Yeah, just that—you’re stronger somehow. You’re solid. You can do this if anyone can.”
He had no idea what she was talking about, but he returned her grin and pushed optimism into his showfield. She nodded and laughed. “Let’s get showered. I’ve got a lunch appointment, don’t you?”
The time finally rose into his consciousness, and he swore, “Oh, shen! Let’s go!”
* * * * * * *
Six days later, they finally had the meeting They had one whole meeting hall on the ground floor of the Memorial building. The sanctuary with the names of the known martyrs and entire Householdings that had died to bring about Unity was two stories below them.
The hall was a huge space, lit in the daytime by arching windows along the sides, and a translucent domed ceiling. In the dark, it glowed with every sort of illumination, nageric and visible. Pillars, statues of historical figures, and low banisters were arranged to control the nageric noise.
It was a majestic space designed for conducting portentous affairs. To Vret’s astonishment, the hall was half full by the time of the first meeting.
Hajene Lassin, a Second Order channel, mounted the high stage at the front of the room with the ponderous deliberation of an old time World Controller about to announce the acquisition of a new Territory, showfield projecting immense gravity of purpose.
She placed her notes on the podium, took a deep breath and announced, “Risa Tigue was a businesswoman who saved a nearly bankrupt Householding from ruin by integrating it into the surrounding junct society’s economy.
“Given that inordinate success during her youth, she had no reason to suspect that her methods, designed for the sparsely populated area around her Householding, would not work on the grand inter-Territory scale demanded at the time of Unity.
“Tonight, I will explain why her methods could not possibly have succeeded without the Secret Pens.”
The audience came to rapt attention, many poised to take notes, others keenly focused on Lassin’s arguments.
Vret lost interest as Lassin went on to contrast this scholar’s opinion with that one’s, and wove in her own ideas backed up with slides of graphs and equations. She was a good speaker though, spilling words out at the sizzling pace the First Year channels required to keep their interest. And she brought the lecture to a close right on time, offering handouts to anyone who wanted them.
Oddly enough, many people did want them and stood around reading the handouts. The planned hour for clearing the room was not enough. Other people started to arrive and get caught up in the raging arguments about Carre’s role in Unity, particularly with respect to the Logan Genfarm. Many of these young channels were from out-Territory, and Tonyo Logan was their hero.
Watching from the sidelines, Vret noted that as the crowds mingled and rolled through one another, many of those who had been there through the lecture were settling down to stay for the real meeting.
In a way this was confusing, and in a way it might turn out to be good. It would seem that the topic had brought together a discussion group that just lingered, and that was the effect they’d been hoping for, a clandestine meeting in plain sight.
The trick would be knowing when all the outsiders had left. Vret figured that would happen as soon as Hajene Lassin and the little knot of enthusiastic students left.
“Morry said there were thirty eight people invited—other than the three of us,” Ilin said counting.
“We still have forty-five here, at least.”
“Forty-five? I make it forty-four.”
Vret flicked a tentacle. “Behind that pillar near the front door.”
She moved sideways a bit. “Oh, I zlin him. He can’t be renSime? How can you zlin through this soup?”
“RenSime? I don’t think so.” At least there were no Gens. Morry had worried about that. But still, if there was a renSime who had been invited, they we
re in bigger trouble than he’d thought. “I’ll go find out.”
“I’ll come, too. I haven’t zlinned any Firsts yet, have you?”
“Not sure. There’s that tall blond girl over by the mural of the First Contract signing. Real tight showfield. Notice how far around her the ambient seems so smooth?”
“Hmmm. I don’t recognize her. We’ll check her out later if she stays. She seems to be listening to Hajene Lassin, but not willing to get too close.”
With just a few dozen people in a hall designed for hundreds, they had no trouble making their way toward the suspected renSime.
The young man lurked in the foyer of the hall, an area between the front doors and a row of closely spaced pillars. He had placed himself between two pillars, a position from which he could observe but others wouldn’t notice his nager.
As Vret neared, it became obvious that the fellow was renSime. “You were right. RenSime.”
“I don’t—” four strides closer, she said, “Yes, I zlin. Now what?”
“We have to talk to him.”
“Saying what? Go away?”
“Pretty much.” Vret approached the young man looking him over carefully.
He was medium height, slightly built, brown hair and dusky complexion. He wore a Rialite student uniform in the current summer colors. As far as Vret knew, the renSimes and Gens wore the same basic uniforms as the channels. As he got closer he could see the patch on the sleeve and collar was different, showing he was from the adjacent renSime First Year camp.
And now, seeing them marching toward him shoulder to shoulder, zlinning their combined channels’ nager, the fellow was becoming alarmed.
Vret and Ilin simultaneously adjusted their showfields to seem more friendly and reassuring.
“I know I shouldn’t be here,” blurted the renSime.
“If they catch you, you could be expelled,” said Vret. “Rules are there to protect everyone.” Did I really just say that?
“If you’ll help me, ‘they’ won’t catch me until I’ve done what I came to do.”
“And what’s that?” asked Ilin.
“I have to talk to the people at this meeting.”
“The meeting’s over,” lied Ilin smoothly, her showfield firm. “The lecturer is just about to leave. She’s a Second and she’s going to be walking right through here. She’ll surely notice you. She’s faculty. She’ll take immediate action. You had better leave.”
The renSime studied them carefully. He obviously knew his disadvantage against two channels. “Are you in charge of this—uh lecture? Or are you just attendees trying to be helpful?”
Vret zlinned Ilin under cover of their showfields. She was deep in thought but flicked a nageric shrug at him.
“The lecture was my idea,” admitted Vret. “I have to stay and close up. But my friend here could escort you back to your camp.”
To her credit, Ilin didn’t even start at that offer, but scrutinized the renSime closely for his reaction.
He frowned, inwardly gathering up his courage. “I was hoping to discuss The Mellow Ambient with Hajene Lassin.” He waited for their reaction.
Vret managed to hide his chagrin but Ilin’s showfield broke up enough for the renSime to zlin. He grinned broadly in triumph.
Smoothly, Vret asked, “And why would you want to do that?”
“I want to talk to the board organizers.” His eyes strayed to Lassin but his attention stayed focused on them. “I thought since she was giving the lecture—maybe she’s...she’s not?”
“No, she’s not,” Ilin admitted with such finality it was an admission that she indeed was one of the organizers. “How did you find out about this meeting?” asked Ilin. “You shouldn’t have any access from the renSime facility.”
“Yes, I know. And I wasn’t officially invited to this meeting. That is what I have to talk to someone about. I have information the original organizers of the boards should know and it’s urgent—very urgent. It could already be too late.”
At that moment the knot of students around Lassin began to move, sticking to her as she smoothly edged toward the front doors.
Vret decided. “Move over this way,” he told the renSime while nagerically nudging Ilin into position to shield the renSime from the Second Order channel’s notice. It wouldn’t be hard. She was still fully engaged with a vociferous student who kept singing snatches of classic songs—off-key.
Meanwhile, the tall blonde First Order channel drifted in their direction, trying a little too hard not to seem to be going anywhere in particular.
“Make it quick,” said Vret. “We’ll relay your message. But you have to get out of here. That’s a First coming toward us.”
Wide-eyed, the stringy youth hunched into the shadow between the two pillars and confessed radiating guilt. “I built a secret, illicit connecting cable between the campuses so I could get into the systems over here. I stole the access codes. I just wanted to search the channels’ library—there’s so much they don’t let renSimes read. But I stumbled into your boards by accident. And I couldn’t stop reading Bilateral’s stories. And now—” he swallowed back something emotionally charged and leaned forward to whisper, “Well that doesn’t matter anymore. Now they’ve caught onto me. This is all my fault.”
“They’ve caught onto...” Vret remembered something Morry had said about someone logging into the boards maybe from the renSime side of Rialite. It was just too unbelievable that a student could do something like that. It was far more likely Iric Chez had said something.
Ilin asked, “They’ve followed you to our boards?”
“If not already, then in a day or two they’ll know everything. You have to shut it down and wipe out all trace of it, and if you can’t handle that yourselves, I can help.”
“You can help?” echoed Vret stunned.
“I’ve been defending you from discovery for weeks now. But they’re on to me, and they’re going to get through.”
Lassin and her knot of students filtered past them and simultaneously the First Order channel passed between Lassin and the three of them. The First circled, much too casually keeping herself between Lassin and the renSime. This First was clearly neither Farris nor Tigue. Perhaps she had just Qualified First.
As Lassin departed, her students scattering, the First circled all around and came right up to them saying, “I’ve been looking for someone willing to discuss shiltpron parlor names in fictional works. Which historical novel was it that took place in The Mellow Ambient?”
As she said the words, the ambient around them smoothed out as if flattened by a massive weight.
“You are a First,” accused Ilin happily.
“Could you use some help with this problem?” She indicated the renSime. “He shouldn’t be here.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Vret aware of the sizzling alarm from the renSime. Was she just objecting to a First Year renSime wandering among First Year channels?
The First zlinned the hall with a sweeping attention and returned to the renSime. “I doubt he was invited.”
Being discussed in the third person was really getting to the youth. He was fidgeting from one foot to the other.
Vret got the distinct impression the First had figured out exactly what they wanted a First for. To Ilin, he said, “Could you pass the message on to someone who can use the information while I talk to our helpful guest?” To the First he said, “Over here, please?”
When she moved in response to his tentacle gesture, and, surprisingly without argument or discussion, Ilin went off searching for Morry, he said to the renSime, “Wait here and don’t move.”
He led the First out of earshot and began, “In fact we had been hoping that a First would turn up because you see we really don’t know if we’ve got anyone here who shouldn’t be here.”
“It seems to be a pretty uniform crowd. What would be the disqualifying trait?”
With his gaze fixed firmly on the renSime, he gave her a very quick summa
ry of what was happening and what they’d decided to do.
“So we want to be sure there’s nobody here who should be under the care of the experts before they’re out of First Year. The rest of us—well, do we really have to ruin so many careers because of what other people have done and are doing?”
She listened carefully and when he stopped, she gazed at him without reaction. Was she just thinking or had she made up her mind? He couldn’t penetrate her showfield. Had he trusted the wrong person?
Finally she sighed. “Well, that is what I meant about that renSime but I didn’t want to say anything in front of him. I’ve got a lot to learn yet. I can’t understand how his monitors haven’t spotted what I can zlin, if it’s really there. Something has damaged his conditioning. It was there—I could zlin it. I’ve never actually zlinned junctedness before but there was a hint, the barest flicker, of what I’d expect it to zlin like. And then it vanished without a trace, and that shouldn’t be possible.”
Vret hadn’t zlinned that in the renSime and he’d been concentrating. But likewise, he had not zlinned an actual junct renSime, a very advanced lesson. “He’s been reading the boards. Before you came over, we were discussing the boards. Could be that what you’re zlinning only appears when he’s thinking about those stories.”
“As I said, I have a lot to learn. But I don’t understand why he’s still just standing there. He should be scrambling to get away from here by now.”
Vret told her what the renSime had said about the authorities finding the boards by investigating him.
Ilin was bringing Morry back with her, stopping along the aisles to mutter to the people waiting for the meeting.
The First studied the renSime again. “I can’t imagine why he’s told you this—why he came to this meeting.”
“That’s another thing I want to find out. So while we ask him questions, could you circulate among these people and see if there’s anyone else who obviously doesn’t belong? I know you’re just a student here like the rest of us, but we wanted to be sure we tried our best. If you can’t find anyone else, then we’re going to tell them all to sign off the boards and give directions for purging all evidence of their involvement.”
Personal Recognizance (Sime~Gen, Book 9) Page 12
