"But—" Abel began.
"Especially you, Abel. Don't put yourself through this—« you could distract them at a critical moment."
"We'll go outside and pray," Abel said firmly, and led the exodus. Rimon zlinned the party through the closed door. He hoped Jord would have the sense to have that Gen ready for Abel. If this transfer worked—or worse, if it didn't—the repercussions would reach Abel strongly, as deep into need and as bound up in Hank as he was.
Rimon narrowed his concentration to the two boys as Kadi came up and put her hands on his shoulders. Within the insulated room they created an area of calm. Rimon was in healing mode; Kadi was a supportive presence. Hank was tense, but there was no fear in his nager. Uel's need was increasing more rapidly now, so that despite his efforts, his laterals began to lick out of their sheaths.
"Hank, if I kill you—"
"If I die, you take care of Biggie for me, all right?"
"… all right."
He took Uel's arms in transfer position, his friend's tentacles automatically wrapping about him, the laterals seeking his flesh. But that didn't frighten Hank—he'd been through it many times with Rimon.
Rimon went completely hyperconscious as Hank bent to press his lips to Uel's. He'd known it before, with Kadi, had seen it with Willa and Jord, but Hank's incredulous surprise and delight when the flow brought exquisite pleasure was as exciting as if it were the first time for Rimon, too. And it was different—release from need without the savage wrenching of pleasure out of the brink of agony. Innocence. Uel has never killed—now he never will.
Kadi was clutching at Rimon's shoulders. Did she perceive somehow that Rimon had just seen a vision of untainted bliss, that he—and she—would never know? But Zeth will!
Then Hank and Uel were untangling themselves, staring at each other, too young to bear the embarrassment of solemnity. They both broke into giggles. "We did it!" Hank cried.
"Mom! Dad! We did it!" Uel shouted, jumping up, oblivious to the post transients in his body. His secondary system had been involved in the transfer, and Rimon zlinned the wave of dizziness that drove the boy to his knees. Rimon caught him up onto the bed again.
"Easy." Rimon couldn't help chuckling. "Give yourself time to get used to being Sime."
Uel stared at him, and broke into laughter again. "I ami I'm Sime and it doesn't matter! It really doesn't matter!"
By this time, Hank had opened the door. Dan Whelan and his wife were already there, followed by Willa, then Jord. The Whelans embraced their son and Hank, both crying unashamedly. Then Dan said, "God has blessed us after all our doubts. Mr. Farris, can you ever forgive me for my accusations?"
"That was all forgotten long ago," said Rimon. "Anyway, it's Hank and Uel's celebration today." Where was Abel? He was about to ask Jord, when Abel entered, pale– and high-field. So he'd had to take the Gen. Rimon had expected that, and now he recalled that sometime immediately after Hank and Uel had achieved their transfer, he'd felt a faint sensation. Yet it had hardly attracted his attention. The room was not very well insulated, and Abel's emotions upon being forced to kill at the same moment that Hank was giving his first transfer should have flared through the whole town.
But Abel's inner strength, bolstered by the physical relief from need, carried him through in his usual fashion. "Hank, you were truly sent to us; and Uel, God has blessed you in a way no Sime has known before. Rimon, Jord—all the rest of us as we learn not to kill—we will always have to live with the fact that we have killed. You're the first of your kind, as Rimon Farris is the first of his. May God guide you to use His blessings wisely."
Hank was staring at Abel. By now he had no trouble recognizing need—nor satisfaction. "Abel!" he whispered. "Oh, Abel, I'm sorry! I could have—"
"You could not do both, Hank, and what you did for Uel is far more important than what you may one day do for me."
"Next month. As we planned—"
At the stab of fear/resentment/jealousy from Uel, Rimon put a hand on Hank's arm. "Not next month. Uel needs you until he learns for himself not to kill. But in the meantime, no one's going to give up the attempt to stop everyone from killing." But especially Abel. How can I let him go through this again? I've got to find a way—and soon.
To that end, he sought more information, for he sensed that somehow, some way, he'd find some bit of knowledge that would make everything else fall into place. And then he'd know how to stop any Sime from killing. So he consulted Jord about Abel's kill on Uel's changeover day.
"Rimon! I wouldn't zlin my father's kill!"
"I know you wouldn't deliberately, but, how could you help it that day? You must have had to force that Gen on him."
"Well—I did shove them into the storeroom together, but then I put Willa between me and them, and tried to stay completely hypoconscious until it was over."
Rimon fought down an irrational anger at the loss of information. He knew how sensitive the people of Fort Freedom were about their privacy—especially about the kill. Nonetheless, he screwed up his courage and approached Abel with the request to witness his next kill.
Abel fought down a series of emotions, and finally managed to ask, "Why, Rimon?"
"I wish I could tell you exactly what I'm looking for, but I don't know. I think I'll know it when I zlin it. There was something about your kill at the Whelans'—something that could be the key to stopping you from killing. But I wasn't focused on you, and I don't know what it is."
"Something to stop me from killing?"
"I can't promise. It's just a hunch, Abel."
"I understand." But he didn't say yes. He shuddered. "When I was a Freehand Raider, we used to zlin each other's kills. While I know God forgives everything if one is truly repentant, I sometimes wonder if, after all my sins, I'm asking too much."
"No!" Rimon recalled his own vision of what transfer was like if one had never killed—a knowledge he could have only vicariously. That was enough frustration for anyone to live with. "Abel, I'm going to find the way. What we're doing is too slow; only one Sime separated from the kill for each Gen we train—and a majority of Gens who simply can't learn not to fear transfer. We've got to have every scrap of information!"
So, hesitantly, Abel agreed. "When the times comes, you may have to remind me of my promise."
They were interrupted just then by Jord and Willa, hand in hand and bursting with good news. Willa could not wait to break it easily. "I'm going to have a baby!"
"Willa!" exclaimed Abel. "Jord! Oh, that's wonderful– have you told your mother yet?"
"Congratulations," said Rimon, trying to hide the conflict in his emotions. On the one hand, the news that at last there would be another child in Fort Freedom assuaged a part of his guilt. Still, he was not sure that Jord should have allowed it yet; he seemed stable enough these days, yet Rimon sensed that he didn't have that deep inner security Rimon himself felt.
As Margid and Kadi, who had already been told the news, came in from the kitchen with tea, Abel heaved a happy sigh. "A grandchild. We are blessed indeed."
When the day came for Rimon to observe his kill, Abel was more nervous than Rimon had ever seen him. It was Rimon who almost backed out, though, when he saw the Gen waiting in the killroom, drugged, uncomprehending. He'd been thinking in terms of selyn flows, field gradients, experiments—but there before him was a person, about to die. He felt the same reaction from Abel. Every month he goes through this!
It was far worse than Rimon remembered. Even that terrible time—his last kill—when the boy had spoken to him… even then he'd more than half believed that Gens were not people. But that was three years ago, before Kadi —Willa—Hank…