Distant Friends and Other Stories

by Timothy Zahn

  At the very least, I agreed with perhaps an unnecessary touch of sarcasm. Word leaks out about that and we're going to be right back where we were with Ted Green last month.

  They thought about that for a long moment. Maybe we can still keep it private knowledge within the group, Calvin offered doubtfully. Colleen doesn't have any real commitments she can't bow out of for the next few months, does she?

  Her doctor knows she's having headaches, I pointed out. If she's at all competent she isn't going to drop it just because Colleen says everything's all better now.

  There was another moment of silence. We'll think of something, Gordy said at last. For the moment the main job is to keep Colleen and the baby healthy. Is there anything we can do to help?

  Not that I can think of, I told them. If I come up with anything, I'll let you know.

  Okay, Calvin said. You think we ought to set up some regularly scheduled contact time when you'll be outside the shield?

  Maybe later we'll need to do something like that, I said. For now, I don't think it's necessary. I'll have to leave in a couple of days, anyway, if I'm going to get the van back to Des Moines before the rental period runs out.

  You want me to fly in to stay with her while you're gone? Gordy offered.

  A brief surge of jealousy flashed through me before I could suppress it. Absurd, of course-Gordy was nothing more to Colleen than a good friend. Let me see how she's doing when she wakes up, I suggested. If she feels like she'd like company, I'll let you know.

  Unless you'd rather I not even offer...?

  So he'd caught the flicker of emotion. No, of course not, I said, feeling my face flushing with embarrassment. Sorry-Nelson must have taken over for a minute.

  There was a short, awkward silence, and I realized my apology had made things worse instead of better.

  Neither Gordy nor Calvin had made any secret lately of the fact that they thought my close-approach with Nelson had become altogether too convenient a catch-all excuse for me. Sure, Dale, Gordy said at last. Anyway, let me know what she says.

  Right. Well, I suppose I'd better get back. See if she's woken up yet and find an out-of-the-way corner to hook the big shield up in.

  Okay, we'll leave you to it, Calvin said. Take care of her, Dale, and keep in touch. Maybe on your drive back to Iowa we can hold a round table on just how we're going to keep all of this quiet.

  And who all we're going to keep it quiet from, Gordy added. Say hi to Colleen for us, okay?

  Sure, I said, turning the van's ignition key again. And don't worry about it. We've got plenty of time to come up with a workable plan.

  And I really believed that as I broke contact and turned around to head back to Colleen's. Really believed that we had weeks-even months-to come up with a good story.

  If I'd only known that I had, instead, exactly four minutes....

  I saw the flashing red lights two blocks away; but it wasn't until I got past a camper parked on the wrong side of the street that I realized the ambulance was pulled up directly in front of Colleen's house.

  I bounced the van half up on the curb right behind it and scrambled out, banging my shin on the door in the process. I hardly noticed, my full attention on trying to see into the slightly ajar ambulance doors.

  There was no one inside, which meant she was still in the house. Racing across the lawn, I threw open the front door and dashed into the living room. "Colleen?" I called.

  "Over here," her voice said from my right. Skidding to a halt, I turned to find her sitting calmly on the couch, a stethoscope-armed woman seated beside her and a group of three men standing in a loose circle around her.

  All of them, at the moment, looking at me. And doing nothing else.

  "What's going on?" I asked when I got my voice back.

  "This is Dr. DuBois," Colleen told me, indicating the woman beside her. "She tells me-" she swallowed-"that I may have lost my baby."

  I stared at Colleen, then at the doctor, then back at Colleen. "I don't understand," I said. "What-I mean how-?"

  I was interrupted by a loud beep and a flurry of unintelligible speech from one of the paramedics' belts.

  "Doctor...?" he asked, pulling the radio from its holder.

  He nodded, acknowledging the call with some kind of number code as he and the other two men brushed past me and left. I closed the door behind them and watched as they hurried across the lawn, my thoughts a swirling mass of utter confusion. Only hours earlier I would have sworn the baby was perfectly fine; and now this....

  "How?" I asked the doctor again.

  DuBois opened her mouth; but it was Colleen who answered. "Because the headaches have stopped,"

  Colleen answered for her.

  I frowned at her, saw the tight look in her eyes. As if she was pleading silently with me to understand....

  And abruptly, I did. Somehow, probably through all the tests Colleen had been taking, DuBois had discovered she was pregnant and realized where the migraines were coming from. But with the headaches now stopped-and with no way to know about the telepath shield-she had come to the only conclusion possible, that one of the two conflicting minds had ceased to exist.

  Relief washed over me. Relief that the baby was not, in fact dead; relief that now we didn't have to think up some story about the migraines to get the doctor off Colleen's back.

  All of that assuming, of course, that DuBois was indeed thinking the same way I was. "You mean that the headaches were because-?" I asked, trying to draw her out.

  DuBois nodded, the eerie hint of flashing red fading from her face as the ambulance outside drove off.

  "Because Colleen and her baby were far closer together than two telepaths can safely be," she explained.

  She looked at Colleen. "Is this-?"

  "He's a good friend," Colleen told her. "He understands about telepaths."

  DuBois nodded and turned back to me. "Then you must understand that both of them were in great danger," she said gently. "In fact, that's why I brought an ambulance here this evening, to get Colleen to the hospital for an emergency abortion. As it happened-" she shrugged slightly-"in this case Nature provided her own solution."

  I shivered, memories of my own close-approach with Nelson flashing to mind. DuBois saw, misunderstood. "Don't worry-I'm sure Colleen will be all right," she assured me. "We'll make sure tomorrow. Unless-?" She looked back at Colleen, eyebrows raised.

  Colleen shook her head. "Tomorrow will be early enough. I'd rather not start a full examination right now."

  "Okay." DuBois reached over to squeeze Colleen's hand, then stood up. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, then-ten sharp. But don't hesitate to call before then if you have any problems."

  She pulled her stethoscope off her neck and dropped it into her bag. Picking up her coat, she got into it as she walked to the door. I opened it for her, she nodded her thanks And suddenly her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open, and the whole thing went straight to hell.

  "You're Dale Ravenhall," she breathed, staring at my face as if seeing a ghost. "You're one of-" She spun to look at Colleen, twisted back to stare at me. "You can't be here."

  And suddenly her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open, and the whole thing went straight to hell.

  "You're Dale Ravenhall," she breathed, staring at my face as if seeing a ghost. "You're one of-" She spun to look at Colleen, twisted back to stare at me. "You can't be here."

  DuBois mustn't find out about it. At all costs, she mustn't find out.

  She was still staring at me. Swallowing hard, I closed the door and took a careful breath. "What I'm about to say," I told her, "is something you must promise to keep to yourself. I mean absolutely to yourself. Is that clear, Doctor?"

  She hesitated a fraction of a second, then nodded. "I promise," she said gravely.

  I nodded back, wishing to heaven I wasn't in the middle of the telepath shield. If she was lying through her teeth, I'd never know it. "All right. You can test for this tomorrow, but my guess i
s that the baby is still fine. What seems to have happened is that both he and Colleen have totally lost their telepathic abilities."

  Behind DuBois, Colleen nearly fell off the couch. "It seems to be a side-effect of the pregnancy," I rushed on before she could blurt something that would pop the bubble. "A safety mechanism, I guess; otherwise, like you said, a telepath couldn't possibly live through a pregnancy."

  DuBois nodded slowly. "I see," she said thoughtfully. "Strange, indeed."

  "Not all that strange," I argued, digging desperately for half-remembered facts as I fought to create something reasonable-sounding on the run. "I mean, a woman's digestive system shuts down during labor, doesn't it?"

  "Yes, but that's hardly comparable," DuBois shook her head, turning to look at Colleen. "This is more like a controlled stroke, or possibly something like hysterical amnesia. Either way, it implies that some part of her brain has completely shut down." She looked back at me, her eyes shining with sudden excitement. "Yes. And if so, it means we should finally be able to discover where exactly in the brain the telepathic talent originates."

  Even with the cool air leaking in from the front door beside me, I felt sweat beginning to collect on my forehead. "I really don't think this is the time to put Colleen through a whole battery of tests," I suggested cautiously.

  "Why not?" DuBois countered, turning back to Colleen. "Don't you see what this might mean, Colleen?-after years of warm-air speculation, we could be on the edge of finally learning what makes you tick. Learning how and where the telepathy comes from-maybe figuring out how to turn it on and off at will-"

  "And what will all this testing do to my baby?" Colleen asked quietly.

  A lot of doctors would probably have popped off with a brusque or even patronizing dismissal of the question. To DuBois's credit, she didn't. "It should be safe enough," she said instead. "There's no way to guarantee that, unfortunately, not with a fetus with the abilities this one clearly has. But medical science has had a lot of experience with non-intrusive testing over the past couple of decades, and I think the chances of danger will be extremely small." guarantee that, unfortunately, not with a fetus with the abilities this one clearly has. But medical science has had a lot of experience with non-intrusive testing over the past couple of decades, and I think the chances of danger will be extremely small."

  We discussed and argued and bargained with DuBois for over an hour. In the end, we gave in.

  You told her what?

  I clenched my teeth. Will you for God's sake settle down, Gordy? I said. It's no big deal.

  I'm so glad you're more relaxed about life these days, he came back acidly. I don't suppose you've by any chance considered the possible consequences of this stupid lie of yours?

  So what was I supposed to do, tell her about the shield?

  Why not? She could probably have been trusted with the secret.

  "Probably" isn't good enough, I insisted. And I'm sorry if the lie wasn't up to your usual standards. Next time I have to come up with one on the spur of the moment I'll ask for sealed bids.

  Gordy's comeback would probably have been a juicy one, but Calvin cut in before he could speak. All right, everyone relax, he said in that calmly authoritative tone of his. What's done is done. Let's concentrate on figuring out how this is going to affect Colleen.

  How it's going to affect her is that she's going to get hauled off to the hospital tomorrow, Gordy said blackly. What are you planning to do, Dale, walk her back and forth between testing rooms lugging the shield?

  I turned to peer out the van's side window at the brightly lit building beside me, my breath making a patch of frost on the glass as I did so. As it happens, I'm sitting outside the hospital right now, I told them. As long as I park reasonably close in tomorrow the shield should have no trouble covering the whole building.

  That's fine for tomorrow, Calvin pointed out. What happens when they find out that none of her brain cells have in fact closed up shop? Is DuBois the type who'll push for more tests?

  Like at the Mayo Clinic or somewhere equally far out of town? Gordy added before I could answer.

  Blast it all, Dale-you should have just told DuBois that you weren't you.

  It wouldn't have helped any, I insisted. Actually, that approach hadn't occurred to me until it was too late-our faces had been splashed on the world's TV screens enough times over the years that I'd never even considered trying to bluff my way out. But I'd had plenty of time since then to realize why it wouldn't have worked anyway. She was already busy scheduling Colleen in for tests when the shoe dropped. Or were you thinking that during all that she might miss the fact that Colleen was still carrying a live fetus?

  She might have concluded that the baby's telepathic abilities had burned out, Calvin pointed out. But I suppose that would simply have called for a different set of tests. I'm afraid Dale's probably right, Gordy; the minute the doctor commandeered that ambulance, anything he or Colleen could say or do would only have bought us a temporary reprieve.

  Thank you, I said, passing over the point that the only "us" really involved here were Colleen and me and the baby. And as for season tickets to the Mayo Clinic, we've already been through that with DuBois.

  This is going to be a one-day, single-shot study marathon; guaranteed, end of argument. They get all the data they need tomorrow or they're out of luck.

  Thank you, I said, passing over the point that the only "us" really involved here were Colleen and me and the baby. And as for season tickets to the Mayo Clinic, we've already been through that with DuBois.

  This is going to be a one-day, single-shot study marathon; guaranteed, end of argument. They get all the data they need tomorrow or they're out of luck.

  Her nose was in the tent the minute Colleen went to her for help with the migraines, Calvin said heavily.

  No way to keep this from getting out, I don't suppose?

  I shrugged, the movement making my coat squeak against the van's seatback. We can try, but I'm not optimistic. DuBois will want to publish anything she finds, of course, but we've probably got a few weeks or months before that hits the journals. More likely the simple fact of Colleen's pregnancy will leak through one of the people who help do the testing tomorrow.

  Any way you can identify the ones most likely to talk and maybe-I don't know-persuade them not to or something?

  With my head inside the telepath shield?

  I sensed Calvin's quick flash of annoyed embarrassment. Oh. Right.

  For a moment there was silence. I guess there's really nothing else we can do at the moment, Calvin said at last. Reluctantly.

  Not really, I agreed. Before I forget, Colleen said that you might as well start passing the word to the rest of the group. Probably ought to wait until morning-there's no reason to wake people up for this.

  We'll do that, Calvin promised. How is Colleen holding up?

  I hissed between my teeth. I would have given almost anything to have said she was doing well; or doing badly, or doing medium. But the simple truth was-I don't know, I had to tell them, hearing the undertone of frustration behind the words. I'm... not very good at reading her.

  Another brief moment of silence, an awkward one this time. You'll get better at it, Gordy assured me.

  Just give yourself time.

  I grimaced. Time. It was, indeed, one thing we were likely to have plenty of. Right. Well... I'll talk to you both tomorrow.

  Colleen had a roaring fire going in the fireplace, and was sitting at the far end of the couch staring at it, when I returned from my reconnoiter and long-range discussion group. "Well?" she asked, not turning as I closed the door behind me.

  "They're not exactly turning cartwheels," I admitted, shrugging off my coat and draping it over the nearest chair. "But they don't see what else we could have done."

  "Except maybe telling Dr. DuBois the truth in the first place."

  I winced. I'd defended my decision to lie about the shield-defended it successfully, too-in front of
Calvin and Gordy. But defending it in front of Colleen was another matter entirely. "I'm sorry," I said. "I really think things would have been worse if we'd told her about the shield, but-well, I know it stepped on your sensibilities, and I'm sorry for that."

  I winced. I'd defended my decision to lie about the shield-defended it successfully, too-in front of Calvin and Gordy. But defending it in front of Colleen was another matter entirely. "I'm sorry," I said. "I really think things would have been worse if we'd told her about the shield, but-well, I know it stepped on your sensibilities, and I'm sorry for that."

  She still didn't look up... but from my new perspective I could now see the tear stains on her cheeks.

  "Colleen?"

  "It's so lonely," she whispered. "So lonely, Dale. When you left to talk with the others... I've never been alone before. Not like this."

  I sat down beside her and slid my arm around her shoulders. Her body trembled against mine. "It'll be okay," I said soothingly. Even I could hear how fatuous the words sounded. "It'll be okay. I'll stay with you as long as you want me to."

  She sighed; a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm not going to make it, Dale. Not eight whole months-not like this.

  "You'll make it, Colleen." More fatuous words. "You'll make it because you're not the type to give up.

  And because it has to be done."

  "Does it? Does it really?"

  I felt an icy shiver run up my back. "What alternative is there?"

  She didn't answer... but then, she didn't have to. DuBois had already talked about the alternative. "Do you want to have an abortion?" I asked her in a low voice.

  "What, kill the only child ever conceived by two telepaths?" A sound that was half laugh, half sob, escaped her lips. "What would the group say?"

  "They'd understand," I told her. "Besides, now that we've got the telepath shield this can be done again. If anyone wants it done."

  For a long minute the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. "What happens after the baby is born?" Colleen asked at last. "I can't stay in the shield for eighteen years."

  "I know." That much, at least, was obvious. "We'd have to put him up for adoption. Scott's got a lot of connections with lawyers in the New Orleans area, and Lisa knows everyone important from Philadelphia to the Canadian border. We'll have them quietly get the wheels grinding."