When he looked toward Abel Veritt again, seeking to be told it was all some test that he had yet to find the answer to, the old man was no longer waiting patiently for Zeth's next question. He had tensed, leaning forward, his eyes ceasing to focus as he zlinned with Sime senses, which could perceive far beyond the range of vision.
Mr. Veritt rose, saying, "Someone is coming. One person. One Gen—alone?" He extended his sensitive laterals, the small, vulnerable, pinkish-gray tentacles lying smoothly against either side of the gnarled, weather-beaten hands.
"Two people," said Mr. Veritt. "No one else that I can zlin. Not a raiding party—one's a child. No ... I think . . . Zeth, someone's bringing a changeover victim to the border! I've never heard of such a thing! That Gen is in danger—I can't tell how far the changeover has progressed." But as he mounted his horse he changed his mind. "I can't go down there. The Gen might turn and run—and be killed if the Sime reaches breakout. You go, Zeth. You're still a child. You won't frighten them."
Riding down the trail, Zeth soon saw a Gen woman driving a wagon, a blanket-covered form lying in the back. As he rode up, the woman halted the wagon. Her eyes swept over his untentacled arms. Then she said in uncertain! Simelan, "Fort Freedom. Is it still there?"
"Yes, ma'am," Zeth answered in English. "I live there."
"Oh, thank God!" She turned to the still form in the wagon. 'Marji! Marji, wake up! I'm going to have to leave you."
Zeth saw on the wagon bed a pretty young girl with
delicate features framed by curly light brown hair. She was either asleep or unconscious. The girl moaned, and tossed fitfully, exposing her forearms. The woman looked to Zeth. "She's always been such a good girl. Will you . . . will you take her for me? I can't come into Sime Territory again."
"Again?" "I was born there. I grew up in Fort Freedom."
"Then you know we'll bring her through changeover just fine. What's your name?"
"Hope Carson." ~ "We've got a Tom Carson. A relative?"
"Tommy Carson? My husband's little brother! I wish—"
Zeth said, "You can come along. It's safe. Simes in Fort Freedom don't kill anymore.",
"They don't kill real people. I know."
"No—they don't kill at all!" said Zeth, and then remembered what Mr. Veritt had just told him. "Your daughter will never kill," he amended. "One of the channels will give her transfer. If you grew up in Fort Freedom, you're not afraid to come back, are you?"
The woman studied him. "No," she said finally, "I'm not afraid. No one in Fort Freedom would hurt me."
"Then bring the wagon," said Zeth, and called, "Mr. Veritt! Mr. Veritt, this lady is from Fort Freedom!"
Mrs. Carson froze. "Veritt?" she murmured. "Is it Jord, or . . . ?"
Abel Veritt came slowly down the trail, getting off his horse a good distance from the wagon. "I won't hurt you, child!" he called. "Do you remember—?"
The woman jumped down from the wagon and stood in the trail. Veritt stopped, and the two just looked at one another, until finally he said, awestruck, "Hope!"
"Father!" Suddenly she was running toward him, only to stop a few paces away, hesitating.
"It's all right," he said. "I'm not in need."
She flung herself into his arms and they hugged each other, laughing and crying at once. Then Mr. Veritt held his daughter at arm's length, saying, "Oh, Hope, it's so good to see you again!"
"Mother?" she asked in a small voice.
'Your mother is fine. And Jord—well, he's had his problems since his wife died, but he's alive, too."
She nodded, fighting back tears as she led him toward the wagon. "I've tried to live a good life. I married Lon Carson."
"He was always a good boy," said Mr. Veritt.
"He's a good man, Father, but still—" She gestured toward the wagon. "Our daughter. Margid, but we call her Marji."
Veritt climbed up on the wagon, looking at the girl, then zlinning her. "My granddaughter," he said with a smile. "Lord, I thank you for allowing me to see this day."
"But, Father," Mrs. Carson said in anguish, "she's in changeover! In spite of all our efforts to do God's will—"
"Hope," said Mr. Veritt, "God gave you the courage to bring her here, that you might indeed see His will in action. Marji is not going to kill."
"Is she dying?" the Gen woman gasped.
"No! You will witness a miracle this day—a miracle we have seen so often it has become commonplace!"
She looked to Zeth as if just now absorbing what he had said.
"We've found the true answer," said Veritt. "Gens live safely with Simes in Fort Freedom now, freely giving of their life force without being hurt. We are putting an end to the kill forever." He tucked the blankets more securely around his granddaughter, then moved to the wagon seat and took the reins. "Zeth, take the horses back to the Fort. Tell Uel Whelan to meet us at my house. It's stage three. There's plenty of time."
Uel Whelan. For his own granddaughter, Zeth noticed, Mr. Veritt specified the only channel who had never killed.
At Fort Freedom, Zeth verified that Uel Whelan was still at the Farris Homestead. Then he galloped for home. Patches, tied to the porch earlier so he wouldn't follow Zeth, was now loose, jumping on the boy when he dismounted.
"Can't play now, Patches," he told the dog, and hurried inside. In the parlor were two Simes, obviously in need. Something was wrong. Normally Simes went directly to a transfer room for their appointments; occasionally someone might have to wait a few minutes in a shielded room, but if all the rooms were full, with a spillover into the parlor, something must be tying up all three channels.
Zeth headed toward the back of the house, but met Trina Morgan in the hall. She carried two cups of steaming tea. "Zeth! No, you can't go back there now. Everybody's busy." She set the tea glasses down on the edge of the staircase, and
put her hands on Zeth's shoulders. "I know why Mr. Veritt took you out this morning, Zeth. You want to talk to your parents, but you're going to have to be strong until they finish their work."
"No," said Zeth. "It's a changeover! Mr. Veritt sent me for Uel Whelan."
"What stage?"
"Three."
"Then there's time." She nodded calmly.
"But the girl," Zeth began. "She's—"
Unhurried, Trina picked up the tea glasses and went toward the parlor. "Let me deliver this tea, Zeth, and then I'll go tell Uel for you."
Companions were supposed to remain unruffled in a crisis, but as Zeth fidgeted in the hall, itching to get back to the Fort, he thought that Trina was carrying things too far.
Finally Trina left the parlor. Zeth followed her to one of the insulated rooms, where she opened the door a crack and slid carefully inside, closing it behind her.
Zeth shifted back and forth from one foot to the other, until at last Uel Whelan came out. The young channel was clearly preoccupied. "Stage three, you said? Who told you?"
"Mr. Veritt. He—"
"How long ago?"
"Half hour, forty-five minutes. But—"
"Tell Abel I'll be there by stage five, maybe sooner." With that, Uel ducked back inside the room. Zeth wanted to shout after him that the victim was from out-Territory, Mr. Veritt's granddaughter—but he didn't dare interrupt.
So he rode back to the Old Fort, Patches loping along beside him. At the Veritt house, Marji had already been taken into the insulated room, where Mrs. Veritt made up the couch into a bed. Zeth noticed how Abel Veritt kept himself between his wife and his daughter like a channel or Companion. Mrs. Veritt was not in need, but she was past turnover. The wetness on her cheeks testified to her frustration that she dared not come near her daughter.
She took out her mothering instinct on her granddaughter, saying, "Hope, she's as beautiful as you were as a little girl."
Mr. Veritt turned when Zeth entered. "Did you find Uel?"
"Yes. He said he'd be here by stage five, maybe sooner."
"That's fine. I'll coach her till he ge
ts here. Hope, you shouldn't stay. Marji will start responding to your field."
"Oh, Daddy, I can't leave her when she's in pain!"
Marji was struggling for every breath, the sound a strong counterpoint to their conversation.
"No," said Mr. Veritt, "she's not in pain, although she's uncomfortable because she has no training. She's not getting enough oxygen. If she knew controlled breathing, she'd be alert now, if weak."
Just then Marji cried out sharply, gasped, and fell silent. Mr. Veritt zlinned her, and smiled reassuringly. "There—• stage four, and she's asleep, not unconscious. She'll gain strength for the last two stages. I'll stay with her. Zeth, please take care of my daughter.
So Zeth was to be chased away again. Well, maybe when Del came he could sneak back in.
By this time, other Simes were on the porch. Mrs. Young came in to ask, "Who's in changeover, Margid?" Then she stared at Hope. "Is that—? Oh, it can't be!"
"My daughter," Mrs. Veritt said. "She brought us her daughter. Hope, do you remember Mrs. Young?"
"It's good to see you again," Mrs. Carson said, although even Zeth could see that only the formal good manners drilled into every child of Fort Freedom allowed her to speak politely to a roomful of Simes.
The Simes were equally polite. "You don't want a crowd, with your child in changeover," said Mrs. Young. "When it's over you'll feel like company. Margid, come help prepare the feast. You're our best cook, and it will keep your mind off—"
Quickly, Mrs. Young guided Mrs. Veritt out. The word would spread now, and no one would come near until the channel and his Companion were here to shield Mrs. Carson.
The Gen woman watched them go, muttering blankly, "What feast?"
"The changeover celebration for Marji," Zeth explained with the awkwardness of a child who knew more than an adult about a situation. "Every time a new Sime starts right off on channel's transfer, the family celebrates."
"I don't believe it," Mrs. Carson whispered. "I brought Marji here because at home she'd have been murdered or would have killed one of us. Here . . . can it have changed so much?" She looked around. "It all, looks the same."
"Uh . . . you want some tea?" Zeth offered.
Mrs. Carson smiled through her tears. "Trin tea," she said. "The universal remedy. Now I know I've really come home again."
The Gen woman looked around the kitchen-. "My mother's kitchen. But now she doesn't dare come near me."
"You'll learn to control your field," said Zeth. "Then you can be around Simes anytime." He put water on, and reached for the container marked "Tea," only to find it empty.
Mrs. Carson said, "Mother was always afraid we kids would break it. The tea is in the wooden box.
Not wanting to be the child who broke the delicate china tea container, Zeth set it carefully back on the shelf and finished making tea. Mrs. Carson sipped hers, studying him. "Zeth Farris. I don't remember any Farrises."
"My dad's a channel. He's the one who first discovered how to channel."
"What exactly is a channel?" she asked.
"A Sime who can take selyn from Gens without hurting them, and then give it to other Simes so they can live without killing. Your brother Jord is a channel." And Zeth found himself drawn into giving a detailed explanation of life at Fort Freedom, fumbling for definitions of new Simelan words like Companions, those special Gens capable of giving transfer to channels.
At length, Mrs. Carson put down her empty tea glass to go to the window. "It's all the same," she said, "and yet it's so different." She paced to the table and back to the window, plucking nervously at the curtain. "What's taking so long? Shouldn't that . . . channel ... be here by now?"
"Changeover takes a long time," said Zeth. "When Marji went into stage four, that's about halfway."
She whirled from the window, wide-eyed. "But it's been—"
Just then the quiet was shattered by a piercing scream.
"Marji!" gasped Mrs. Carson, and ran for the insulated room.
Abel Veritt met them at the door, the terrified screams continuing behind him, "Hope—Marji doesn't know me," he said. "She came fully awake for the first time to find herself alone with a Sime."
"Let me—"
"You must not touch her.-Stay by the door and talk to her."
Motherhood clearly had the best of fear in Mrs. Carson as she said impatiently, "All right—let me see her!"
Zeth followed them. Marji was sitting up, plastered against the wall as if to go through it. Her pretty face was distorted with panic—but the moment she saw her mother she stopped screaming.
"Marji, it's all right," said Mrs. Carson. "This is your grandfather. We're in Fort Freedom, Marji."
The girl began to sob. "Mama, I hurt! I'm so scared!"
"You'll be all right," said her mother, starting toward her.
Mr. Veritt stopped her. "No, Hope. Stay behind me."
"Mama!" cried Marji again, reaching out. She caught sight of her own forearms, the tentacle sheaths showing as blistered lines from the wrists almost to the elbows. She shook her arms disgustedly, as if the sheaths could be cast off, then grasped her left arm with her right hand, scraping viciously. She screamed again in pain, and Veritt gasped, taking a step back before regaining control.
"No, Marji!" he said sharply. "You mustn't hurt yourself."
"No! No! No!" cried the girl, lost in her own panic.
Mr. Veritt grasped his daughter's hand and placed it in Zeth's. "Keep her here!" he told the boy, and strode across the room to sit on the edge of the bed, saying, "There's nothing to be afraid of."
"I'm cursed," Marji sobbed.
"No you're not cursed, child. You are blessed with a mother who had the strength to bring you here."
"I don't want to be Sime. I won't kill!"
"No, Marji. You won't kill."
The girl stared wide-eyed from Veritt to her mother. "I—I'm scared, Mama. I don't want to die."
"You won't die, Marji," said Mrs. Carson, "but you won't kill, either. Have faith, and do what your grandfather tells you."
She looked at Mr. Veritt. "You're my grandfather? Mama always said—if I changed over—'find you. But I don't want to change over!"
"It's not bad to be Sime, when you don't have to kill." Mr. Veritt sounded like one of the channels. "That's right—lie still now. Come, let us pray for the strength to accept God's will."
As Mr. Veritt's voice dropped to a murmur, Mrs. Carson
lowered her head, too. There was a short period of calm, and then suddenly the girl on the bed cried out in pain.
"It can't be!" gasped Mr. Veritt. "So soon! Zeth, go—" He turned, and saw Zeth holding Mrs. Carson back. "No. Stay with my daughter and keep her safe till this is over." He rose, saying to Marji, "I'll be right back."
Herding Zeth and Mrs. Carson out of the room, he said, "There's no time to wait for Uel. Where's Jord?"
"Out at our house, too," said Zeth.
The old man strode to the porch and called, "Ed! I've got an accelerated changeover, sixth stage. All the channels are at Farris. Get one here—fast!"
"Right you are!" Zeth heard, followed by the sound of galloping hoofs.
Mr. Veritt turned back toward the insulated room, saying, "Stay out here, Hope. I'll take care of Marji."
Mrs. Carson stared blankly at her father, her chin trembling. "What's happening? What's gone wrong?"
"Stage six is just starting," Zeth explained. "There's time for Mr. Whelan to get here."
The Gen woman began to pace. "Dear God, let her be all right!"
Zeth was more annoyed at being shut out than worried, although Mrs. Carson's pacing soon got on his nerves. If I were a channel now, there'd be no problem.
Suddenly a new sound came from the insulated room—not a child's scream of terror, but an animal cry of agony. Mrs. Carson went white, and dashed for the room.
"Don't!" Zeth cried, scrambling after her. "You can't go in there!"
She flung the door open before Zeth could c
atch her. Marji was straining to force her new tentacles from their sheaths. Zeth saw the membranes covering the wrist openings swell, then subside as Marji let her breath out in another feral grunt.
"My baby!" cried Mrs. Carson, as Zeth grabbed her arm.
"Hope, get out of here!" Veritt commanded, but she ignored him. "I'm not a channel! I can't shield you! Run!"
At that moment, with another intense effort, Marji's tentacles broke free. She collapsed on the bed as Mr. Veritt said, "Good . . . good. Lie still now; conserve your strength till the channel gets here—"
But the girl did not hear him. She sat up, eyes unfocused,
zlinning for selyn to satisfy her need—First Need, the most intense and terrible need most Simes ever knew.
Mrs. Carson's concern turned to terror as her daughter was transformed into nature's most perfect predator—stalking her. The Gen woman backed toward the door as the new Sime moved with astonishing speed. Mr. Veritt caught the girl's upper arms, but even though both were Sime, the strength of an old man was not equal to that of a youngster berserk with need. Marji flung him off, and went in pursuit of her prey.
Zeth could smell Mrs. Carson's fear—it prickled through his own body. There was nothing human about Marji now but her form. Like a stalking animal, her prey in easy reach, she approached Mrs. Carson, fixing her with empty eyes as she prepared to strike and kill. I'll be like that! thought Zeth.
Then Abel Veritt moved like a flash between his granddaughter and her prey, reaching for Marji's arms like a channel, laterals extended to twine with hers.
The moment lateral touched lateral, Marji jerked upright and in one fluid movement drew her grandfather into lip contact. It's all right, thought Zeth, weak with relief, but instantly he remembered, No–he's not a channel!
For a long moment the two figures remained thus intertwined and then Mr. Veritt collapsed. Marji let him fall.
He's dead, Zeth realized in horror, as Mrs. Carson screamed, "Father!"
But Marji was unsatisfied. Still in need, her restless laterals licking in and out of their sheaths, she began stalking her mother again. Mr. Veritt had entrusted the Gen to Zeth's care—Keep her safe till this is over. He had failed.
Marji took another deliberate step toward her mother. Zeth darted in front of Mrs. Carson. "Run! She can't hurt me."
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