PR# is the proficiency rating number of the Donor. Various factors enter into calculating it. The parameters are measured in-Test, and the following formula is used. It has been revised constantly at various times in history, reflecting the increased theoretical understanding of the transfer phenomenon.

(~~ means "is proportionate to")

K-factor -- transfer speed at which Gen consciously perceives selyn flow

Q -------- quantity of selyn delivered, measured in dynopters adjusted for redundancy.

B -------- Barrier Threshold. The speed of selyn flow at which the Gen's fear is triggered.

C -------- a universal constant, which adjusts for units.

M -------- Submutation variable, different for each subspecies of Sime or Gen.

S -------- Sensitivity; ability to react to small increments of change in nager-related variables.

V -------- Speed of reaction to small increments of change in nager.

H -------- Fastest comfortable speed at which selyn is delivered.

L-factor -- A logarithmic function.

The formula is written in many different ways, depending on what aspect of it is of the greatest interest at the moment. The term:

is usually a lifetime constant, and has been called the P-factor or personal-factor. This is inaccurate. The term:

changes inexorably with age, and often changes suddenly due to trauma or other experiences. It is often called, inaccurately, an achievement factor. Though application and hard work undoubtedly affect this term, many other forces also control it. Attempts have been made to calculate a theoretical personal maximum for this term based on basal selyn production rates and on the P-factor. All such attempts have failed in field testing. Theorists argue heatedly whether the Achievement Factor or the P-factor hold the key to differentiating Sime from Gen before changeover. They insist funds should be allocated for multi-generation record keeping to increase the accuracy of predictions based on PR numbers.

In previous chapters, Digen has had an argument with Ilyana over the Distect/Tecton philosophy and what is to be done with her now that she's come to the Tecton for help. He has also tangled with Mickland over the importance of his work at the hospital, and Mickland has expressed definite anti-Householder sentiments. It has been mentioned that Digen is not officially 4+, even though he feels he is functioning at that level, since it is assumed that the testing procedures would result in his death due to his lateral scar. Jesse Elkar has attacked Im'ran, ending up with their being in a dependency, when Im should have been Digen's Donor that month. Digen doesn't yet realize that this is the same Jesse he knew as a youngster.

In chapter 5, Digen is summoned to attend Mora Dyen, who is in bad shape after taking a transfer abort. He finds Ilyana in the room with Mora, attempting to help her. He treats Mora, discovering that Dane Rizdel is the person responsible for causing the abort. Although only a General Class Donor, Rizdel has a reputation for this sort of thing, and is dreaded by all the channels on staff.

Ilyana declares fervently that Rizdel deserves a horrible death for what he's done to Mora, and she wants to witness his execution. Shocked, Digen attempts to explain that it isn't the Gen's fault. He finally agrees to let her help him with Rizdel, hoping to demonstrate the Tecton's method of dealing with the situation and perhaps win her over to his point of view.

The stairwell door led Digen and Ilyana into another back room and then into Digen's office from which he would run the in-Territory Collectorium. It was much smaller than the office he had upstairs, probably a made over janitor's closet. The Westfield Sime Center, Digen had learned, had been built in stages as the city grew. Each stage was simply layered on the outside of the previous stage, often leaving stairwells which had been outside fire escapes layered between and leading into the backs of private offices.

Digen took in the room at one glance, noting all the essentials were there, however crowded. And then he led the way out the front. They came out in a long hallway lined with closed doors -- transfer rooms, mostly in use. At the far end of the hall, near large glass doors leading outside, was the reception desk. A man sat there directing the line of Gens waiting patiently for their turn.

The man was renSime, so the moment they entered the hallway, Ilyana's field attracted his attention. Digen gestured with three tentacles, a question. The man answered with one hand held open, four tentacles extended. Room Nine.

Selecting the door with nine on it, Digen hesitated. The use light was on, cautioning no interruption. The interruption of certain channels' functionals could be fatal to one or both parties. Digen put his palm over the rounded gong of the signal and let the hammer fall gently, once, twice. Almost immediately the door opened. It was Imrahan.

In the tiny cubicle, designed for the use of two people, three were crowded. On the contour lounge, a rather low field Gen, obviously Rizdel himself. Beside him, a channel.

Digen recognized the Sime immediately, exclaiming "Jesse! Jesse!" Digen went to him, arms wide to embrace his old friend. "I didn't know you'd qualified First Order! When did this happen?"

Jesse Elkar had gone through changeover about the same time that Digen had. They had both been assigned to the same training camp for their first year, the year when the learning rate is magnified sometimes as much as ten times normal. Digen, being a Farris, had qualified First Order Channel on his very first transfer after changeover. Jesse Elkar, a more typical channel, had had to work hard to achieve what Digen had been born with. Yet they had become inseparable comrades at the camp as Digen tutored his friend, and in turn learned from him what it was like to struggle to overcome an inability. It was a lesson which had sustained him through all the years after his accident, though he hadn't seen Jesse Elkar since before his accident.

"Digen," Elkar said. "Digen -- it had to be you. I'm sorry."

Digen half released him, reading the channel's nager critically. The man was reading Digen's need, and it filled him with an embarrassed remorse. "Don't, Jesse. That just makes it worse. Really, it doesn't matter. I'm glad it was you. I can't think of anyone more deserving. If I have to get scrubbed, I'd rather it be for a friend."

Im'ran unable to contain himself one second more, broke in. "Digen how is Mora?"

And simultaneously, Rizdel said, "Yes, Sectuib. Please. How -- did she ... ?"

Digen stood back, looking from one to the other. They had been worried sick about Mora and here he was renewing an old friendship. He was disgusted with himself. "She's fine. No permanent damage at all. But I've taken her off the rolls for two days."

Rizdel sighed with relief, but Im'ran clenched his fist, slamming it into his other palm. "Shen! I told her! Can I go up and ..." He trailed off, looking at Digen, realizing what he was saying. "No, of course not. I'm sorry."

There's more here than is apparent, thought Digen. That's not just professional concern. "She's sleeping now. I'll make time for you when we're finished here. She should be awake by then." Which neatly brought them to business.

Im'ran looked hard at Ilyana then questioningly at Digen as if to say, silently, with his back to Rizdel, What's she doing here? Ilyana was supposedly the best kept secret in the Tecton at the moment. And Rizdel was technically an outsider. But, being Gen, Rizdel wouldn't notice her nager. And if she were very quiet, nothing would betray her.

Digen said, still with one arm around Elkar, as if to keep him from disappearing while Digen's mind was elsewhere, "I am told you are called Rizdel. First name?"

"Dane. Dane Rizdel, Sectuib."

"All right, Dane. I've kept you waiting much too long already, and I'm very sorry about that. It's not making it any easier for you. But I'd like to settle this today. I suspect you would too?"

"I would, I really would. But I don't see how it's ..." Rizdel trailed off into a little hopeless shrug.

Im'ran said, "He has a history of this, Sectuib. It's never been quite this bad before, but has never gotten any better since it started, about five years ago."

Digen nodded. "Well, I think it's time it did get better. There's just so much of this a man can take. Right?"

Rizdel looked up at Digen, hope in his nager. He nodded, feeling better. Digen understood what he was going through. "I don't want to go home like this. How can I even walk down the street like this?"

The Gen's nager was not high compared to Ilyana's, or even to Im'ran's, who was still low-field after a donation. But it was high enough to irritate any passing renSime no matter how courteous Rizdel might be.

Digen let go of Elkar and sat down next to the Gen. He took the man's hands to get a better reading against Ilyana's field. "I think there's more to it for you than just that, isn't there?"

Rizdel met Digen's eyes with a deeply haunted look. Digen could perceive the conflict in the man. The desire to donate was clear, and oddly enough, under the circumstances, it was accompanied by a very distinctive selyur nager. Clumsily, crudely, the Gen was matching into Digen's field, close enough to discomfort Digen by wakening his need, yet so far off it was almost painful, like a sour note in a duet.

That in itself was a fairly normal reaction pattern for an untrained in-Territory Gen. But Digen sensed threads of discord within the man, elements of the same slamming fear reaction that was dominant in Joel Hogan. Those elements didn't belong in an in-Territory Gen at all.

Digen said, "I see. I think I see. Dane, I'm going to have to ask you to wait some more. I've got to study your chart. I've got to have a conference with my -- assistant." He indicated Im'ran with one tentacle. He had almost said "therapist," and that would not have reassured Rizdel at all. "Meanwhile, I'd like you to be alone, relax, sleep if you can. You don't have to worry any more, because that isn't going to happen to you ever again. Believe me?"

Rizdel stroked one of Digen's handling tentacles with one finger, a gesture of reassurance. "I hope so. I think so. It's never happened with a First, you know."

Digen rose decisively. "No, I didn't know. I must study your chart. Im? Let's get some work done." He led the way to the door, gathering Ilyana and Elkar behind him. Im'ran picked up a chart from the little desk in the corner and followed.

Out in the hall, Digen pulled the door to behind them, giving Rizdel one last, encouraging smile. Then he turned, catching Elkar with one tentacle, maneuvering so that he walked between Elkar and Im'ran. He could sense the nager working between the two, and recognized it for the shreds of a dependency they were both fighting to shake off.

"Jesse, don't go away. You and I have a lot to talk about, especially how -- this -- happened to you and Im, and what the blazing shen we're going to do about it."

He felt them both rise to that, as if accused of a crime. In a sense, they were. The Tecton could function only because any Donor could work with any channel of equivalent ability and needs. When a channel began to require a particular Donor in order to complete a personal transfer, it disrupted the system -- caused things like Digen's current predicament -- and it paralyzed the Tecton, cutting efficiency, jeopardizing their contract with the out-Territory Gens.

As the ranking channel in the District, Digen could call down as much punishment on their heads as the Controller could. He said, "I'm not speaking officially, just as a friend with a personal stake in getting you two straightened out. I'd hate to see it done the hard way. You'll let me help?"

"I was hoping you would -- could," said Jesse. He had known Digen before the accident, had seen him do casually what others considered miracles. He touched Digen's left arm with the tip of one tentacle, worried and solicitous.

Digen stopped. They were, for the moment, alone in the hall. He turned so that Im was between him and Ilyana and the waiting Gens by the door, then he extended the injured lateral for Jesse to see. "It's healed nicely, see? It bothers me sometimes, but in the main, I manage. I can do everything I could do before. Some things I'm even better at. My only problem is fatigue. My limit is about 3 class-A functionals a day."

It was like a professional ball player now confined to a wheelchair saying bravely, "I can even play on the paraplegic team."

Elkar reached for contact with Digen's laterals, saying inarticulately, "Ohhhh, Digen ..."

Digen let him make contact. It was clear to the channel that Digen's systems were still in recovery from his efforts with Mora Dyen. And the contact also revealed the full extent of the deadening weight of chronic need. Elkar, who remembered the years when Digen's recovery time had been measured in seconds, when he'd carried a hundred class A's, seventy class B's, plus dozens of minors every day for weeks on end without showing signs of fatigue, had to face his friend's devastation.

Digen suddenly realized that this was why Elkar had not come to see him during his long convalescence. He'd been afraid.

"Maybe you better let Rizdel go for today?"

"No," said Digen, breaking contact and starting for the office again. "The longer he waits, the more tensed up he becomes. I regret making him wait even now, but it can't be helped."

He led the way into the office, saying, as he peeked out the back door, "Didn't I see the elevator -- yes, there is a stop here, a service elevator. Jesse, why don't you take Ilyana up to the lounge for tea and give me about forty minutes with Im?"

"You look like you could use it. Shen, I'm sorry, Digen."

"Enough of that. Ilyana, you stay out of synch with him, or I won't let you observe the Rizdel business. Deal?"

She said, glancing impishly sideways, "You think I can't do it?"

"Well, can you?"

"Watch." She moved close to Elkar, neatly out of phase, and propelled him out the back door, smiling over her shoulder. "You may not know it, Sectuib, but you taught me that." And the door closed behind them.

As soon as they were gone, Digen wilted onto the lounge, shoulders slumped. He hadn't realized how much he'd been tensed against her presence. Only the sudden relief gave him any measure of how recklessly he'd been expending himself shielding from her.

Im'ran sat down in the curve of the lounge, half facing Digen. "I don't trust that woman. You're not really going to let her ..."

"I think I'm going to have to. Let's not talk about her. You've got to get me into shape to deal with Rizdel in a big hurry." He took the file folder from Im'ran's fingers and lay down, propping himself on his elbows, to read. "Get to work while I look this over. There's something very odd about this Gen. And I can't quite put my finger on it."

Im'ran's steady fanir's field had already begun to sink into Digen, bringing back all the precision balances of currents that his work on Mora Dyen had disrupted. There had been a time when he'd been able to do this for himself within seconds of any functional. Now he depended on the rare, gifted Donor like Im'ran to keep him on his feet.

As the Gen worked over Digen, laying a hand here and there, sometimes massaging the stiffness out of a calf muscle, a cramp from the neck, sometimes not touching at all but just letting his field affect the channel naturally, Digen relaxed deeper and deeper, recovering his strength. Before he actually dozed off, though, he finished reading the anomalous chart. Then he surrendered to sleep, with Im'ran working the ache from Digen's arms, depending without hesitation on the Donor to know exactly how to supervise his sleep to avoid any need-associated unpleasantness.

The only instruction he had ever had to give the skilled therapist had been simply, "Always work at my left."

The deep, supervised rest purged the fatigue from Digen's mind and body. When he woke, about twenty minutes later, to the tingling aroma of trin tea, he had the feeling he knew the answer to the Rizdel problem. But it was like an elusive word floating at the periphery of his mind. He couldn't quite bring it to conscious knowledge.

He rolled over and sat up. The jittery fatigue, the oversensitivity to every stimulus, the impatience that had characterized his condition when he'd walked into the Center had almost vanished. His need was still there, still keeping him on edge, but it was dormant. Im'ran had lowered his intil-factor, the psychological component of need. Though his body hungered for selyn, he knew he could afford to wait with the confidence that he would be served when the time came.

As Digen moved, Im'ran turned from the hot plate in the corner with the two glasses of tea and offered Digen one. "Thank you," said Digen, and then, to keep his mind off of Rizdel so that maybe the elusive thought would surface, he said, "You know, I feel great. I don't know how you did it, but I feel ready to go to work."

Im'ran, sipping his tea, said, "No, I think you've just forgotten what feeling great is really like, it's been so long."

There was a certain truth in that. "Well, relatively great, then. You really do have a magic touch, I mean, over and above being fanir. Who trained you?"

"My father. He was a First Order Channel."

At Digen's raised eyebrow, Im'ran added, "It's the practice in Imil, you know."

Digen nodded. "Now that you mention it, yes, I remember that. Is he training anyone else?"

"He died years ago."

"I'm sorry. I would have liked to meet him. He must have had something -- very special." Digen set his glass down and swung his feet to the floor. "I feel privileged to be allotted so much of your time."

Im'ran's head came up and there was a strange light in his eyes. Digen, seeing his nager leap, inquired with two tentacles, "Hmmm?"

Im'ran bit his lip, then took the plunge. "This is probably the wrong time to mention it, but -- I have a secret ambition."

Digen listened.

"I would -- I want to be adopted into the House of Zeor. There, I've said it. Now you're going to think me mercenary."

Digen considered gravely before he answered. "Im, you are good enough, no doubt about that. I meant what I said. But -- but there's the matter of Jesse Elkar. I never have understood exactly how that happened."

Embarrassed, Im'ran said, "It's all on record. It's happened before, but never quite so badly as this."

Digen weighed that. "In the days of the Companions, when we all lived together under one roof, within a real House, not scattered across the landscape as we are now, this was a coveted skill, to draw a channel to you like that. The network of dependencies between the channels and Companions was the heart of the Householding. But today, Im, today we've had to give all that up. Our loyalties are not to each other. Our loyalties are to the Tecton. It is the law in Zeor that no Companion be -- how shall I put it? -- imposing enough to draw channels into unwanted depths."

Digen was talking around a particularly ugly gutter word, and Im'ran knew exactly what he meant. "Sectuib, I have never done it carelessly or on purpose. Sometimes, it happens in my work that long association creates dependency. I've always been able to disengage more gracefully, but I know I can handle this one, given time. The problem is the Donor shortage. Elkar came to us in real desperation, far beyond where you are now, though he hadn't been shorted nearly as long. He shouldn't have been released from therapy so soon, but -- there was no other choice open. There just aren't enough therapists."

Digen knew it was true. He'd been caught up in dependencies himself, inadvertently, during the extensive therapy after his injury. Yet, it was also true that some therapists were

careless, driven perhaps by a subconscious desire to dominate a channel. And who's to say, thought Digen, that that isn't the natural role of the Gen?

He pulled back from the thought. Distect subversion. A week ago, he could have pondered the question objectively. But now, suddenly, it was tangled up with the image of Ilyana, bright, beautiful, and -- disturbing.

"I will investigate, talk to Jesse, maybe pull some records, and consider recommending you to Zeor. But I think more will depend on how you handle me than on anything I read about you. When this is all over, I will know you as you cannot be known on paper."

"I don't doubt that. It's all I could ask for."

Digen got up, trying his legs. He went to the desk and looked over the papers in the "urgent" box. As he glanced at them, absently scrawling a signature on some of the routine ones, he said, "I do hope I'll be talking to your Sectuib about you some day soon. Tell me, how does Mora Dyen feel about this?"

"Mora?"

"She means a lot to you. Is it mutual?"

Im'ran twirled his tea glass nervously between his palms. "I keep asking her to marry me, but she keeps putting me off."

"Zeor doesn't marry outsiders, and I take it she isn't a householder at all. Is that why she's putting you off?"

"No."

"You can be so positive?"

"I know why. She has something she wants to do first."

"Hmm? What's that?" asked Digen offhandedly. It was an impertinent question, but Im'ran's request gave Digen a more intimate status now.

But Im'ran was embarrassed. "I think she'd rather tell you herself. It's really more between you and her, I think."

Digen set the papers down, staring at Im'ran, who was actually blushing. "She wants a Farris child as her firstborn?"

Im'ran, now that the statement had been made, was less uncomfortable. He looked at his tea and answered, "Yes. She's very determined."

"She didn't strike me as the calculating or ambitious type." Digen had been propositioned many times, and had been happy to consent on several occasions, but never to those who merely wanted the social status or financial security that came of giving the world a Farris child.

"She's not. She's the foolish idealist type. Sometimes, she goes without sex so long her Proficiency Numbers fall into the danger zone and the Controller has to order her to straighten herself out. Since she heard you were coming, she's been impossible to live with. Look at the mess she got into just trying to keep from seeming incompetent to you."

Digen sank into the desk chair, bemused. "Is that why she tackled Rizdel?"

"I think so, but she won't admit it. At least not to me."

Digen picked up the Rizdel folder, idly flicking it open. "I'll have a good talk with her about that ..." He trailed off as he became absorbed in the charts displayed in the folder. Something. Ahh! And he had it. He knew now what he'd have to do with Rizdel. It sent a cold shiver down his spine, and after a moment, he found he'd crumpled the edge of the folder, gripping it too tightly.

Im'ran, sensitive to the channel's shifting mood, came around the desk, quickly forgetting his personal problems in his professional concern for a patient. He ran a finger along Digen's arm, gauging the size and hardness of the glands that produced the selyn-conducting hormones. The ronaplin gland, the largest key gland located about halfway between elbow and wrist, just under the lateral sheath, was small and hard.

"Are you sure, Sectuib, that you want to work in this condition? I think it's time you started keeping countdown vigil."

"Work is better," answered Digen, trying not to think about what he was going to have to do. "If I just sit around with nothing to do but think about transfer, I get morbid." He displayed the injured lateral so Im'ran could see the scar. "The worst problems this gives me are primary system dysfunctions, mostly in personal transfer. With channel's functionals there's usually only the fatigue, but when I draw for my personal need, the flows tend to unbalance."

Digen displayed all four laterals. "These three conduct selyn at normal speed. But this one with the scar is slow. With someone like Ben Seloyan, it wouldn't hamper me much. He's so slow he doesn't exceed the speed the scar will conduct selyn. But that's not very satisfying, either. With you -- well, maybe it's good that we have a month to teach you how to handle me. Have you ever had a channel abort a personal transfer on you?"

"Abort -- well, once or twice. But it's always been fatal to the channel."

"Precisely my point. I've survived -- well, I stopped counting at five hundred personal transfer aborts. You wouldn't want to take on a client who had spent a couple of days dwelling on that fact, would you? And I'm sure you wouldn't wish it on Ben."

At that moment, the elevator delivered Ilyana to the office door. Even through the insulation, Digen felt it. The contrast with Im'ran was shocking. As she entered, Digen gathered himself to his feet, saying, "Im, I think it's time you went up to Mora. She should be waking up about now and will probably require your services for an hour or two." He issued a series of instructions in the Tecton's verbal shorthand, overriding all of "Im'ran's objections by herding the Therapist into the elevator before it took off by itself.

Then Digen turned to Ilyana. "You wanted to see the Tecton in action. Just how game are you?"

"You think you can shock me?"

Digen refused to be baited into another argument. He had work to do. "I'm going to introduce you as a Companion, not mentioning that you haven't qualified Tecton Donor. You're going to assist me in some delicate therapy. Can I trust you not to knife me in the back when I'm not looking?"

It was, of course, what she'd been begging for. A chance to work with Digen, to function with him. But she was suspicious. "You said you wouldn't let me work. Why the change of heart?"

"I said you could come and watch. But I can't have Im there too. How can I explain requiring two assistants? Besides, I don't think I could do this with both of you in the same room." I'd prefer Im, thought Digen, but if I can demonstrate how the Tecton can make a Donor out of a transfer-shy Gen, Ilyana will surely come to Qualify. He had to have Ilyana there, and he couldn't have them both so Im'ran had to go.

But it was dangerous. "Ilyana, you're not inexperienced. Can I trust you at my back? Will you cooperate? Will you obey me? If I have any doubt about you, I'll have to call Im'ran back and leave you out of this."

She met his eyes steadily. Her emotions were mixed, fomented. Digen couldn't guess what she was thinking as she said, "Sectuib Farris, you can trust me. I have no malice toward you -- only -- sometimes, I feel pity."

Digen nodded. I've noticed, he thought, but kept it to himself. "Let's go."

Digen turned and headed for Rizdel's transfer room, Ilyana hurrying after him. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

Digen considered briefing her as he would Im'ran and gave up the notion. She was one of those Donors who worked better on instinct than on conscious planning. "I'll explain it to Dane and you together."

The Gen was not asleep, but he had lapsed into a drowsy state just as Digen had hoped. Digen moved into the room quietly, motioning Ilyana to a stool in the corner while he hitched himself onto one corner of the desk, resting his feet on the chair. He spoke quietly, introducing Ilyana as one of the best Companions he'd ever encountered and leaving it at that.

Then he sighed, looking once again at the chart and wishing he were wrong. Rizdel, it said, at the age of fifteen, had been badly burned by a berserker -- a Sime just through changeover and driven by First Need. Rizdel had survived that transfer, just barely, and for the last five years had posed an increasing abort problem to the channels of the Center.

"Dane -- uhh -- Dane, I have a theory."

"Sectuib?"

"I'm not absolutely sure, just from these figures. Tell me, how did you happen to get in the way of a berserker?"

"Not exactly a berserker ..."

"Oh? That's what it says here. How did it happen?"

"He was -- is -- a friend of mine. We went hiking, three of us kids. Giles got sick, so my buddy went back for help while I stayed with him. I wasn't scared. I knew what to do for changeover. I built a fire, got some water boiling, and did what I could for him as his tentacle sheaths began to swell with fluid. I thought sure the channel would get there in time to give him first transfer. He was a little scared, but mostly he was out of his head with the fever and all. I kept telling him that by morning he'd be okay, and we'd throw his changeover party for the whole school ..."

Rizdel shook his head, embarrassed.

Digen said, "What? It's important, Dane. I have to know what happened, how you felt every step of the way."

"I was jealous. I'd established recently, and I still felt -- well -- cheated, that I'd never go through changeover."

Digen nodded. "Normal enough." But inwardly, elation grabbed him. I knew it! He's a Donor, shen or no shen! "It should have been reassuring to Giles. What happened?"

"It grew dark, and still the channel didn't come. Giles came up on breakout, and he was really suffering. I was so busy trying to keep him still between spasms that I forgot to be afraid. I knew that, if the channel didn't get there, Giles would come after me. But after all, what could I do? Leave him like that?"

Digen eyed Ilyana. She was taking it all in quietly, thoughtfully. He raised one brow at her questioningly. This is the Gen that has no right to live? But to Rizdel, he said, "Of course not. Only a lorsh would do such a thing."

"We tried to delay breakout as long as we could. Maybe that was a mistake. He had had such a hard time, and he was so desperate. He told me, a couple of weeks ago, he doesn't even remember it except as such a monstrous panic he doesn't dare think about it. He says they're right not to let him near any out-Territory Gens. He'd do anything to avoid feeling need -- again."

"You visit him?"

"I tried to once. They wouldn't let me. We talk on the telephone. Sometimes for hours. Hajene -- will I -- is it possible ... ?"

"He didn't kill. He's not a junct. Possibly, you could be the best therapist for him. But we have to get you over your problem first. Tell me exactly what happened after breakout."

"We were both so wrung out from the whole thing that we just held each other and cried for a few minutes. I hadn't even thought about attempting to donate to him. But, shenoni, what else could have happened? It was just so natural. I didn't even realize he was doing anything at first. And then I noticed a -- kind of good feeling ..."

"Slil," said Ilyana.

"Probably," said Digen.

"Absolutely," said Ilyana in such a positive tone it contradicted Digen's caution. He threw her a hard look. She shrugged and subsided.

"Was it?" asked Rizdel with a repressed eagerness. "I've always sort of hoped -- I mean, what else could it have been?"

"A lot of things," said Digen. "I'll be able to tell with a lateral probe. I don't think anyone's ever tested you for slil before," he said, paging through a chart. "There's nothing here on it, anyway." Privately, he thought Rizdel really had experienced, if only momentarily, the higher Order Donor's unique response to the selyn draw. "Before I test you, though, I want to hear the whole story."

"What else is there to say? One minute, I thought everything was all right, the next I panicked. It was all my fault."

Digen shook his head. "You did splendidly. You saved your friend from going junct, and you hadn't even had your own first transfer. A little transfer shock is normal under those conditions. What puzzles me is -- tell me, how did this berserker notation get on your chart?"

"I don't know. They never even showed me the chart."

"Didn't somebody take down your story?"

Rizdel thought a moment. "I don't think so -- I don't recall ever telling a channel officially. We were in the woods. Then I woke up in the Sime Center. I suppose the channel arrived just moments after Giles took me out."

Digen nodded. "It would look like a clear case of berserker attack."

Digen set the chart aside. Before he said anything else, he wanted a good look at the evidence. "Let me do a lateral probe, run a few tests ..." He went to sit in the channel's position on the side of the contour lounge. Ilyana began to move into position behind him, but Digen motioned her away with one tentacle. "Stay out of phase. I want to get a deep reading."

He had no idea whether she understood what he intended -- there were no working channels in the Distect -- but Rizdel obviously did. He pushed his sleeves up and settled back onto the lounge. He wasn't afraid of this, since there'd be no selyn movement between them.

Digen slid his hands around the Gen's cool arms, faintly aware of the traces of ronaplin Rizdel hadn't been able to wash away after Mora Dyen's attempts at transfer. He let himself respond to Rizdel's field until his own laterals were moist, then quelled the reaction sternly. In one smooth movement, he made contact with all four laterals, following with the lip-lip contact of full transfer position.

The Gen field burst inwards on his consciousness like a deafening noise. He adjusted his show field to the Gen's field. It was the channel's trick, the one that allowed them to take selyn at a controlled rate, without killing. Fully exposed to the Gen's selyn field like this, Digen was able to sense the Gen's entire body, inside and out, to feel with the Gen's senses, even more keenly than the Gen himself could.

He waited, observing Rizdel's involuntary responses to the Sime field. He knew what he was looking for, and when he saw it, he dismantled the contact as quickly as he had constructed it.

For a moment, he sat struggling with his own reaction to Rizdel. Need. Shen! That's what Ilyana's here for. He went to her, pulling her close. Without being told, she fell into synch with him, instantly erasing Rizdel's imprint. He said to her, "You win. It's slil."

"Why didn't they test him?"

"You don't find slil in a berserker victim. If you have it, you can't be victimized. And if you don't have it ..."

"The Tecton ..." started Ilyana.

Digen cut her off. "... has made a mistake. A terrible bureaucratic blunder. Dane, here's my theory." Digen went to sit on the desk again, kicking at the chair nervously. "Giles actually touched your TN-3 barrier. It's unusual for a renSime to go that deep. A renSime killmode attack usually drains only the GN-3 and GN-2 levels. Sometimes they go as deep as the GN-1 levels. But to get all the way to the TN-3 barrier -- I suspect it happened because you had completely lowered your GN barriers, offering no resistance at all to Giles' draw. That's why you experienced slil.

"But," continued Digen, "your TN barriers were only partly relaxed. When he touched your TN-3 barrier, you felt the draw and reacted with panic, which slammed all your barriers. Giles was partially satisfied, which is why you weren't killed. But he did continue to draw against your resistance long enough to give you a good burn. You had all the symptoms of transfer shock and you were found in a berserker situation, so they assumed you were a berserker victim, and treated you accordingly. And that's what's been causing your problem. They should have been treating you for a transfer abort backlash instead."

"Transfer abort backlash?" repeated Rizdel sceptically. "But I'm not a Donor, and Giles is only renSime. I thought shenshay could occur only between a Donor and a channel. With all respect, Hajene, that's impossible."

Digen nodded. "So everyone has thought. Or rather, not thought. That's the gravest danger in dealing with the Tecton. You never see the same channel twice running. Everything is standardized, so that anyone can step into any job without five minutes' orientation. Nobody has time to stop and ponder discrepancies, anomalies between two areas of a chart. Over here," said Digen, flipping pages, "I see all the hallmarks of a very talented Donor. But over here, we see that you're being treated for an inability to complete a transfer. Nobody has ever stopped to wonder why a talented Donor is aborting transfers -- not just aborting, but inflicting vriamic involvement on a First Order channel.

"Dane, that's something only a Donor could do. And Donors are never berserker victims. That's why you never see slil in a berserker victim."

Ilyana looked at Rizdel with a renewed horror. For a while she had been sympathetic. How could she condemn a man who'd stand by a friend in changeover? Suddenly, her nager erupted into flaming revulsion, and Digen knew she must be thinking Rizdel attacked Mora Dyen on purpose. Digen cut off her half-formed exclamation. "Ilyana, this is a case you could do a paper on. A kid establishes, turns out to have a Donor's talents, but before he even gives first transfer, let alone begins training, he donates at a renSime changeover, loses control, gets hit in his TN-3 barrier, which sets up a whole cascade of reflexes, which are subsequently reinforced because he's misdiagnosed, and as a result, in the midst of a Donor shortage, the Tecton is ironically barring a potential First Order Donor from the ranks."

Digen smiled sourly. "Now isn't that a prime example of bureaucratic idiocy?"

"I don't think it's a bit funny," she said.

"It's not," said Digen, looking at Rizdel. "It's not funny at all. Thankfully, it's rare. And it can be corrected now that it's been discovered."

"What are you going to do?" asked Rizdel suspiciously. Then, realizing that his nager showed distrust, he added, "Not that I wouldn't be grateful, whatever the price ..."

"I understand," said Digen cutting him off. In the days of the householdings, the situation would have called for Rizdel to be shock-Qualified -- that is, for a strong channel like Digen to lull Rizdel into a sense of security by insisting he would only take from the GN levels, and then, in mid-transfer, to strip the TN levels faster than his barriers could rise. It was a Zeor technique that had given the world some of its best Donors, and in Digen's professional judgement, it was what really should be done for Rizdel. It would be the kindest, easiest, quickest way to repair the damage the Tecton had done to the man.

If his deepest TN-1 level could be stripped of selyn, without causing the sensation Giles had evoked by forcing selyn through his TN-3 barrier, Rizdel would be a functional Donor, completely healed, within two or three months.

Unfortunately, the technique was illegal, except when being taught by a Zeor channel to a Zeor channel on a volunteer Gen to preserve the knowledge. Digen was the only one in Westfield capable of it. And he was in just the right state of need to make it work. But there was no Zeor channel ready to learn the technique. Also, he was assigned to Ben Seloyan for this transfer. It would be illegal for him to take transfer from anyone else. No matter what.

"Dane, it's probably going to take you a couple of years to break down those conditioned reflexes. I'm only going to be able to make a start now. Your transfers may be unpleasant, but there won't be any more of the uncontrolled aborts. In four or five years, you may be able to Qualify Second Order, but it's going to be a long, hard road. Game?"

Rizdel thought it over while Ilyana eyed Digen as if he'd just turned into the Arch Tormentor of Nublin. Digen scowled at her, hoping to keep her silent. Rizdel said, "Right now I run a carpet loom in a factory. It's hard to support a family on unskilled labor. If you say I have a chance to make it to the top of a skilled profession -- sure, I'm game for anything."

Digen, reading his nager, saw there was a lot more to it than that. The words were a rationalization. Inside, Rizdel was activated. Something long dormant was waking in him. Shenshid! thought Digen bitterly, The man's a First! And I'm going to cripple him for life, and not even tell him about it -- and pass the whole thing off to Ilyana as a miraculous rescue.

The Farrises are not good at duplicity. Even a Gen can often see through any prevarication. Ilyana came across the tiny cubicle, cutting off Rizdel's nager with her own. "Is it dangerous, what you're going to do?"

"No," said Digen. "We'll do this the safe way, the Tecton way. I'll require your assistance."

She bit her lower lip. By now she was sensitive to the nuances within Digen. She knew he was saying, You promised to act the part of a Tecton Donor. But likewise, she sensed his profound reluctance for the task in hand, though not the reason for his feelings.

"The Tecton way," she repeated in a flat voice, as if she knew what that was and approved. But she spoke to Digen with her nager as she said, "I'll help, of course -- (as I promised, though I wish I hadn't now) -- but, there is another way." Her tone made it a statement, but her nager made it a question.

Rizdel would hear them carrying on a professional discussion. She was keeping her word, not revealing her origins. Yet she was arguing with Digen, probing the source of his reluctance, which a Companion should have understood instantly; questioning the premises of the Tecton, which a Donor would have accepted without qualm.

Digen said, "Yes, of course, the Zeor way. But it would be dangerous -- illegal, too, under the circumstances."

Her nager flared, and he knew she thought, How can anyone dare to make laws to regulate transfer?!

"I must admit," said Ilyana aloud, "I don't completely understand the factors that have gone into your choice."

Digen translated that into: Why aren't you doing what you want to do? A good question. He wondered why it flooded him with a sense of smothering frustration. He really had no choice.

"Considering your opinion of this case is based on Mora Dyen's condition alone," said Digen, referring obliquely to Ilyana's desire to see Rizdel killed in transfer, "I would expect you to prefer this to the Zeor method."

She threw a glance over her shoulder at Rizdel, as if to make sure he wasn't really a monster after all. "My -- uh -professional opinion has changed, Hajene. Anyone can make a mistake."

Her nager indicated she wasn't apologizing for her own mistake. There was no humility or embarrassment, no hint of contrite change of opinion. Rather, she was forgiving Rizdel for his heinous crime against humanity, the inadvertent tormenting of a helpless Sime. She added, "He felt slil once. That changes everything."

"Indeed it does," said Digen, though he understood that what it changed for her was vastly different from what it changed for him. For her it meant that Rizdel was not the fear-driven, callous, and unfeeling monster she had thought. Rather, he was capable of learning to touch a Sime without causing pain. For Digen, it meant Rizdel was potentially one of the most valuable beings in the universe, a higher Order Donor. The difference was so very subtle, yet it was literally everything.

Digen, meeting Ilyana's gaze, immersed in her nager which flooded the tiny room with a turbulent mixture of hostility, disgust, contempt and shocked outrage directed at Rizdel, thought, No, I can't do it. They have to understand exactly what's going on.

He looked at Rizdel's chart again, and told himself that since there was simply no way to shock-Qualify the Gen, there was no possible harm in telling him about the option, and what he was losing. Obviously, he'd be glad enough to make Second Order. He'd never dreamed of making First.

Digen took the chart and sat on the lounge beside Rizdel. "Ilyana, come look at this. You won't see anything like it more than once in a lifetime. It's a whole education on a page."

She moved to sit on the side of Digen away from Rizdel. The two Gens looked over Digen's shoulders as he circled four key numbers, saying with the fourth, "Now, this is the anomalous one, the one that's the key to the whole problem."

He turned the page to a blank and wrote:

PR a B x S super3 V (a means "goes as")

K

Ilyana said, "PR? It doesn't make sense to calculate PR on a Gen."

Digen was glad she understood at least that much. He nodded. "Normally not. But Dane is not a General Order Donor, which is the crux of the matter." Digen transferred Rizdel's personal scores onto the blank paper for them to contemplate.

"Observe, Dane, your S super3 V here is well into the normal TN-1 range. Your reflexes and sensitivity are the equal of most First Order Donors -- which means even a First Order channel won't necessarily be faster than you are. Mora Dyen wasn't -- which is why she got into trouble. By the numbers, I am faster than you -- most of the time, by an easy factor of two. But a factor of two is not a factor of ten. It can be a horserace, under certain conditions."

Rizdel flicked a glance at Digen, then his eye fell to Digen's arms. He frowned. Now that he had cause to look for it, he could see that Digen was on the need half of his cycle. Digen passed over that, pointing to his equation again.

"Now, your K-factor is very, very low, way down in the TN-1 range again. The K-factor measures the speed of selyn flow during transfer at which you first become conscious of the selyn flow. That first touch of awareness is what causes slil."

Digen knew he was oversimplifying, but talking to two uneducated Gens, there was no other way to put it.

"You experienced slil with a renSime. That puts your K-factor well into the TN-1 range. A TN-2 would never perceive the slow draw of a renSime. However, even though your K-factor is so spectacularly low, your B-factor is even lower. And that's what's causing the trouble."

Rizdel nodded. "B-factor is the panic threshold."

Digen winced at the colloquial term. "The Barrier Threshold is the slowest transfer speed at which the barrier reflex is triggered. It's an involuntary reflex, and the triggering of it is bound up with the psychology of the unconscious mind. Your emotional state at the instant of transfer determines where that Barrier Threshold is, for that transfer. A good Donor can move his barrier anywhere from the minimum -- which is usually a lifetime constant -- to the maximum for his Order. You can control at what transfer speed your barriers slam, but you can't stop them from slamming."

"Doubledorse," said Rizdel.

Ilyana raised one eyebrow, "Hmmm?"

Digen said, "Out-Territory Gen term, emphatic agreement."

Ilyana nodded. "Doubledorse twice over. I've felt it happen, but only when I was a kid. Scared shen out of me."

Digen said to Rizdel, "Ilyana's B-factor is now so close to infinity I wouldn't care to try to measure it. She's one of those rare people whose lifetime constants are in flux." Privately, Digen wondered whether Ilyana had been shock-Qualified. It would explain, to a certain extent, why she was suffering from malignant underdraw. He put the thought aside. Rizdel was the problem here.

"Your B-factor, Dane, has been traumatized at a value so low -- well, I've only met one person in all my life whose B-factor might be lower than yours." Joel Hogan. "And his S super3 V is so low, I can walk rings around him, while his K-factor is so high, I think it must be off scale. In other words, his pattern is typical for a non-Donor. Low B-factors go with low sensitivity and high perceptivity thresholds.

"Look at your chart here," said Digen, flipping back to the page of numbers Rizdel had never been allowed to look at. "When a channel walks in to take your donation, he just glances at these numbers, sees this B-factor, and doesn't even look at the pattern of the other numbers. It's a Tecton rule of thumb, low-B means GN. So nobody even looked at you as a potential TN."

"I can see why," said Rizdel. "If I had an absolutely perfect subconscious mind, I might be able to make GN-3 on good days."

"That might be true, except for this." He pointed to the S, V, and K values. "Going blindly by any rule, you miss things. Low-B means GN, usually. But if you look at the very best TN-1s, you see that they often have vanishingly low B-factors, not too much above yours. But they have K-factors which are far lower still. In other words, the speed at which they panic is way above the speed at which they experience slil. Do you follow?

"It's not the B or K value that makes a Donor or non-Donor. It's the ratio that matters. Your ratio right now is upside-down. Your B is lower than your K. That's why you abort. Your barriers slam before you become conscious of the flow. It's subconscious fear, subconscious panic based on a sensation your body experiences below the conscious levels of your mind. There's no way you can beat that by force of will.

"The question is, how did your B-factor get below your K? I don't think it belongs there. I don't think that's its natural value for your body." Digen jabbed a tentacle tip at another number, one which indicated Rizdel's submutation class. "I've never in my life seen or heard of an M-factor like this with a B-factor like that. It doesn't make sense. That's what started me thinking along these lines. Trauma does strange things to the subconscious. The subconscious engraves itself on the body. Sometimes it's reversible. Sometimes it's not." Joel Hogan.

Rizdel said, "That's the channel's job, handling that sort of thing."

"And it's one of my specialties -- transfer pathology. I've seen a lot of strange conditions in my career, but I've never seen anything quite like this. I do, however, think I know two possible ways out for you. We can lower the K-factor. Or we can raise the B-factor. Either way we'll reverse the ratio and make a Donor out of you. Some kind of spectacular Donor, too."

"But," said Rizdel, "I thought the B-factor was fixed."

"Usually is. But your current B is fixed at an unnatural level. It's probably not too far from your norm, but it's not at the norm. If we can remove the trauma, the B should revert to its norm -- and I'll stake my reputation that the norm for you is above your K, probably far above, but not spectacularly far. I'd say in the TN-3 range."

"You said I could make TN-2."

"Yes. In the process of moving your B-factor higher, that is, raising your panic speed above your perceptivity speed, we're going to be treating you very roughly. I told you it wouldn't be fun. In the process, you're going to develop a certain toughness, like a callous, around that barrier reflex. To Qualify as a Second Order Donor, you'll have to develop the ability to donate at or beyond your barrier speed and not slam barriers. It will be specific. Not all Second Order channels will be able to use you. You may not make it above a PR of 1.5 in the Second's range. But if you work hard enough, with enough determination, you will be able to qualify Second in maybe four years."

Ilyana was frowning in confusion. She had been caught up in his presentation of transfer theory and forgotten temporarily about Rizdel's immoral behavior toward Simes. Digen was afraid she would ask some revealing question, so he said, "You see, Ilyana, that's the major difference between the Companion and the Donor. All Companions have a B-factor just naturally orders of magnitude above their K-factor. Some Donors do, but some Donors Qualify by desensitizing the Barrier Reflex with repeated low-Order Donation. I've trained a few Donors this way when all else failed. But they then became wholly incapable of ever Qualifying First Order."

"Why?" asked Rizdel.

"Because -- well, a First Order channel is so sensitive that the activated but repressed barrier reflex is perceived as a danger signal. It works on the channel's subconscious, setting off an 'orientation response' at first -- the feeling you get when somebody sneaks up behind you and says, 'Boo!' Then the continued repression of the reflex in the Gen stimulates the 'adaptation response' in the channel, as low level tension which blocks certain nerve channels and opens others -- completely preventing transfer satisfaction. The Second Order channels -- most of them who will never Qualify First Order -- just aren't sensitive enough to be bothered by the slight aberration in the Gen's nager. So we have a lot of Second Order Donors who have callused barrier reflexes."

Ilyana said, "Hayashi was telling me that his method prevents this. That he can actually take a Gen with a low B and make a First Order Donor out of him."

"He can?" asked Rizdel. "I read a lot about his experiments, of course. Who hasn't? But I never understood it that way before."

"It's a bit technical for the layman," said Digen. "But yes, basically that's what he's trying to do."

The two Gens looked at Digen, their nagers falling into synch as they blazed curiosity at him. They all knew Hayashi's background: kicked out of Zeor for disobedience to Digen's father, Orim Farris, on his deathbed. And they were thinking, How can the Sectuib in Zeor sit in the same building with Hayashi and talk dispassionately about his experiments?

As if unaware of the issue, Digen continued, "Hayashi's method is an attempt to make an old Zeor technique into a legal form. I would send you to him, if I thought there was a chance he could help you. But his best figures -- well, do you know what he's doing?"

"He's trying to teach Gens to read fields," said Ilyana.

"Not exactly, though he has done some experiments along those lines. He's trying to lower the Donor's K-factor by making him aware of the selyn flow at lower speeds than he would normally perceive it. He does this by a new method called bio-feedback -- something the Gens dug out of the Ancients' records. So far, he's been able to lower K-factors by about one percent -- not enough to be really useful, but enough to make a real difference in a Donor's usefulness. He's never worked on traumatized B's, though. He was trained in Zeor. He knows better than to try it with anything less than a full shock-Qualify."

Digen let Rizdel absorb that a moment, then said, "That was the second method I mentioned earlier. We can fight to raise your B, and Qualify you as a TN-2 at the most, a callused Second. Or we can lower your K-factor by a shock-Qualifying -- in a couple of months you'd be working as a First Order Donor."

There, I said it. Digen felt heavy inside, dark and cold. It's just need, he told himself. It will pass. He laid his left hand along Ilyana's arm, seeking her nager to dispel the leaden dark within him.

"Unfortunately," Digen continued, before Rizdel could voice his confusion, "shock-Qualifying you is completely out of the question -- at least for the next few years. The technique is illegal in the Tecton because it's a kill-or-cure measure, and it isn't always the Gen who gets killed. What do you do with a juncted channel? The Tecton can't afford to risk channels like that for just one Gen. Or at least they think they can't afford it. The method is preserved only within Zeor, and is permitted only for teaching purposes. We have to get all sorts of clearances from the World Controller and so forth to set it up. At the moment, there aren't any channels ready to learn the technique. I doubt if you'd be inclined to wait a few years."

"To be a First. ..."

"But unable to complete a transfer in the meantime. Dane, you're ready for it now. But a few more of these aborts and it wouldn't work." The Gen's nager flared. It made Digen ache. It's hope, Digen told himself. He gripped Ilyana's hand tighter. A Gen's hope was overpowering to a Sime in need. "It is flatly and wholly illegal. Totally out of the question." Damn it all to shen and back, thought Digen in a wild mixture of Sime and Gen syntax. "I can tell you about it only because it's out of the question. One of the basic requirements is that the Gen doesn't see it coming, doesn't even know such a thing is possible."

"How does it work?" asked Ilyana.

"Well," said Digen, "in a case like this, for example, it would be a question of my being faster than Dane's S3V. By lulling his B-factor as high as possible, getting him into a perfect emotional state, I would strip him all the way down to the TN-1 level and be out before his barriers were all the way up. A chancy business, as you can see. But it would all be over so fast, he wouldn't have a chance to react -- the position of the K-factor wouldn't matter because the signal that a selyn flow was occurring wouldn't reach his brain until after I was gone."

"I don't see how that would help," said Ilyana, "except it might be fun for you."

Digen gave her hand a warning squeeze. "A risk like that is never fun. Not if you're sane, anyway. But it would help. Look," said Digen, drawing out the chart again.

GN-3 -----|------------------------

GN-2 -----|------------------------

GN-1 -----|------------------------

| *

TN-3 -----V------------------------

TN-2 -----------------^------------

TN-1 -----------------|------------

"These are the Gen energy levels." He put an asterisk at the TN-3 level. "This is the seat of the trauma. Now, by raising his B-factor, we're attacking the trauma from the GN side, working down to it gradually, then coating it over and burying it like an oyster buries a grain of sand in a pearl to cut irritation."

Digen drew a line down the paper from the GN-3 line to the TN-3 line. He knew they didn't understand the diagram or its relationship to the PR formula. How can you discuss these things with a Gen who knows nothing of quantum mechanics? Feeling frustrated, he tried to make it understandable.

"But with a shock-Qualify, we would be attacking the trauma from the TN-1 side, like this." He drew an arrow up the paper from the TN-1 line to the TN-3 line. "Once the TN-1 level has been stripped in any Gen, either the Gen dies, or his selyn production rate increases -- by orders of magnitude. Ilyana, you know what that feels like."

"A sudden, inexplicable passion for channels."

Digen laughed. To Rizdel, he explained, "Ilyana is a First who suffers from underdraw occasionally."

"Oh!"

"It usually isn't that bad," said Digen. But the tendency is there, if imperceptible to the Gen himself. The forces start working against the blockage -- in this case, a trauma at the TN-3 barrier. By touching your TN-1 level, I would set in motion a natural physiological process which would inexorably push that B-factor back where it ought to be, and continue to lower your K-factor to its normal minimum. You would still have the psychological trauma to overcome, and that wouldn't be pleasant. But your body would no longer be fighting your will. You'd suffer acutely for a month or two, but when it was over you'd be functioning as a First. If you lived through it."

"What are the probabilities of that?"

"Well, I've done it three times. One Gen died of resultant transfer shock. Two are working Firsts -- last I heard, one had topped 3.9. It's done so seldom, there really isn't a statistical sampling on record. Each case is unique. You can't really compare one to another. As I said, I've never seen anything like this before." He flicked a tentacle at the chart in his lap. "At any rate, it's out of the question here." But it's the method of choice in trauma-depressed B-factors.

Digen realized he was thinking in English, like a Gen diagnostician. "The best I can offer you, Dane, is a chance to Qualify Second, after a few years of grueling training. That or move out-Territory. I know you can't endure any more of this aborting GN donations."

Pain.

Rizdel's nager bit into Digen, evoking all the sweet yearnings he'd ever experienced, and all the wrenching disappointments. He was in no condition to take such emotions. They were altogether too close to the sensation of need.

Digen got up and went to the desk, pulling Ilyana behind him, placing her to cut off Rizdel's nager. "I'll be depending on you to hold my intil-factor steady. Don't drift with me like you usually do. Minimize it. Understand?"

She thought a moment, then said, "Like this?"

Digen felt knots unravelling inside. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been. "Okay, but not too much. I have to work, not sleep."

She nodded and held steady. It wasn't a precise level such as Im'ran would have used, but it was comfortable. "This is going to be an A-prime functional. You'll have to use your own judgement on the Recovery. I'm slow as a Second after primes. You won't believe how slow. That's the only place you'll notice the scar. Don't hesitate to call Im'ran if it seems indicated."

She smiled impishly. "I don't require help with you."

The smile became her. Digen wished she'd smile more often. It felt warm inside him where he ached over what he was about to do -- to Rizdel, to the world. It's illegal to do more. I'm doing all that I can!

Digen put the chart down on the table with a decisive snap. "Dane, are you allergic to any of the selyn conductors?" He rummaged in a desk drawer among color coded jars looking for something that would do and which he wasn't allergic to himself.

Rizdel said, "Only apronidal."

"Good. You, Ilyana?" Digen chose a flat white jar, reading the label for kickers -- inert derivatives he might be allergic to.

Ilyana flashed confusion, so before she could say anything like, "What's a selyn conductor?" Digen twisted the jar open and shoved it under her nose. When she didn't sneeze, but smiled appreciatively, he figured she wasn't violently sensitive to the stuff and tossed it to Rizdel. "This should do, then." He made a mental note to order a full spectrum of allergy tests on Ilyana. Maybe it's been done. Hayashi, whatever else he may be, is no fool. But then, she's no Farris, so why worry? Normal people don't die from allergic reactions on first exposure.

As Rizdel expertly applied the selyn conductor to his arms, Digen searched the drawer for one of the black jars of hypoallergenic compounds certified for Farrises. He found several, but only one he could use without getting a rash. He made another mental note to requisition the pharmacy to stock the workrooms in the building. The jar lid was stuck. It looked as if it hadn't been used in years. He didn't want to force it open for fear of crushing the glass jar. He'd done that once, and still had the glass pieces embedded in the skin of his fingers. From time to time, they inflamed painfully.

Maybe I'll have Joel pick them out for me, he thought, while holding the jar under running water and tapping it gently. Surgery. Such a simple thing, and so useful.

In surgery, you didn't have to worry about the patient's subconscious slapping you dead while you worked. You didn't have to worry about psychological trauma. You just put them to sleep, did what had to be done, and woke them up good as new. It wasn't very challenging work but it was effective.

Finally easing the jar open, he fumed to Rizdel. "It's your decision, Dane."

For answer, the Gen set the jar of cream aside and held his hands out in the time-honored gesture to a channel. I'm ready.

Digen, laving the gobs of cool, white cream over his lateral tentacles, sat down on the lounge. The chemical would increase his sensitivity, relieving his system of the need to produce ronaplin to raise sensitivity. This would help control his intil factor.

Digen held out his hands and let Rizdel make contact with his fingers. "You realize this is not going to be pleasant. It may take, oh, as long as an hour to get through this."

"It's the best way. I can stand it. I've stood worse."

"I know."

Digen glanced back at Ilyana with a get-over-here look. She came up behind him, put her hands lightly on his shoulders, touching the back of his neck ever so gently. He closed his eyes and let himself go for a moment. Abruptly, he yanked himself back. Transfer with her would be the most natural thing in the world. Use her, or she'll use you.

In one flowing motion, Digen made full transfer contact with Rizdel, slipping into duoconsciousness, riding between the two Gens on a saddlepoint of neutrality.

He fell into perfect synch with Rizdel, fields balanced for zero flow as he had when he'd examined the Gen previously. Then he let his show-field drop slowly, ever so slowly, creeping toward the selyn flow speed at which Rizdel's barrier reflex would engage. There was a perceptible interval -- perceptible to a Farris -- between the first selyn movement and Rizdel's panic point.

It seemed to Digen that it happened in slow motion. Selyn began to move across the skin contact areas from the Gen's arms to his lateral tentacles. First the superficial, GN-3 level in the Gen was disturbed, then across the GN-2 barrier, the turbulence transmitted to the GN-2 level.

The turbulence of moving selyn disturbed the GN-1 level, touched the TN-3 barrier, and the reflex slammed into action. First the TN-3 barrier began to go up -- but before it fully cut him off, Digen saw the TN-2 barrier start to slam. The TN-1 barrier, oddly enough, hadn't moved when Digen was thrown out of touch by the cascade of GN barriers in rapid succession: 1, 2, 3.

Before they had all clenched tight, however, he had the selyn fields balanced, the flow at zero again. Rizdel's eyes opened, met Digen's, wide with fear tightly controlled. Rizdel had felt that old, familiar sensation that always accompanied an abort. Only, this time, it was cut off before it half got started.

Digen held, using Ilyana to offset the effects of the Gen's fear. In moments, Rizdel was calm again. The barriers dissolved slowly, leaving Rizdel open to Digen.

Digen had a better idea of exactly where Rizdel's Barrier Reflex was this time. The numbers on the chart were, of course, only approximate. They hadn't been measured by a Farris, and other channels just didn't have the precision. He moved with more confidence the second time, dropping immediately to the edge of the sensitized speed, staying at the edge of that speed. It was slow, almost too slow to be called a true selyn draw. However it did cause eddy currents in the Gen's system. And again, Digen watched the turbulence transmit deeper into the levels until it touched the TN-3 barrier. Again, the reflex cascade went off -- TN-3, TN-2, GN-1, 2, 3 -- but no TN-1 that Digen could see. Weird. I wonder why?

Rizdel jerked beneath Digen's hands, fear quickly controlled, but still obvious. Ilyana became more intent on Rizdel than on her job, began to drift with Digen in the easy, natural way which was her hallmark.

Dancing on the edge of Rizdel's reflex speed, Digen managed to still the eddy currents and coax Rizdel's barriers down again without dropping the selyn flow all the way to zero. Progress. I'll get it this time.

Rizdel's muscles were locked rigid with conflicting impulses. Though he struggled to cooperate with Digen, the nightmare terror that engulfed him was more than one mortal should have to bear. Deep inside, Digen was reacting to it as any Sime must. It roused in him the long denied greed for uninhibited selyn draw.

It was his primary system that craved the swift, deep, satisfying draw. But he was functioning on his secondary, channel's system now. The primary system was shunted out at the vriamic node. It was Ilyana's job to maintain that condition.

Digen put it out of his mind, concentrating as only a Zeor channel was trained to do, focusing on Rizdel's energy levels. He was not drawing selyn so much as merely allowing it to leak across the junctures between them. Gradually, Rizdel's system accommodated to the leakage. The turbulence that had caused his barriers to rise gave way to a steady flow.

Rizdel sensed it, not as acute anguish, but as a sourceless anxiety that neither grew nor diminished.

Digen increased the speed of his draw by the tiniest possible increment and held. Rizdel's barriers flexed, responding. Digen maintained the condition, hoping the barriers would subside of their own accord.

What he was doing, albeit in slow motion, was precisely what every channel is conditioned not to do. He was drawing selyn against Gen fear. He had to override his anti-kill conditioning by force of will, just as Rizdel fought to override his own reflexes.

Neither of them could keep it up very long. Already, Digen felt the deadly fatigue gathering. Ilyana was losing concentration, letting Digen's systems drift. His intil factor was creeping upwards, gradually. He had to finish this before too much longer.

Rizdel was beginning to relax, acclimating to the selyn flow speed Digen was holding. At this rate, it would take hours to drain the GN-3 level alone. Digen felt driven by impatience, though he knew it was more Ilyana's than his own. Curbing himself sharply, Digen let the flow speed increase another increment.

Rizdel's barriers half rose. Digen eased off just the tiniest bit, and the barriers went down. Again he increased his speed, then decreased it by a bit. Each time he gained half an increment, three quarters of an increment, and still held the barriers down. He was balancing right on the B-factor value.

Rizdel was in agony. Forty-seven minutes, thought Digen. How much more can either of us take?

There was only one relief he could offer Rizdel, and it was chancy. He'd have to increase his draw speed beyond the B-factor value, and still hold the barriers down by keeping the flow so smooth, so absolutely steady, that it didn't set off that TN-3 reflex.

The reflex, Digen had discovered, responded not to flow speed, but to rate of change of flow speed. It engaged only when he increased the flow speed. Then subsided when he held the speed. Parenthetically, he wondered if it would snap at him when he decreased flow speed to disengage.

Digen began to increase the flow speed steadily, rather than in steps. The barriers trembled at the half-rise position. He wondered if he'd be fast enough to get out if he lost control at this point.

But as the flow speed increased, the deeper levels calmed. It was only the onset turbulence that transmitted across the level barriers. No selyn crossed those barriers except when they were flat, as in the case of a First Order Donor serving the personal need of a First Order channel. In such a transfer, it was often as if there were no levels. The Gen became one unified energy level spilling over with life and warmth.

Ilyana!

The golden pulse of Ilyana's hyperactive selyn production behind him had been a bulwark against the screeching hysteria of need that lay dormant within him. She had been in synch with him, but her barriers had been up.

Now, suddenly, her barriers had gone down, she had lost her grip on him. In one instant, his primary system fought for control of the vriamic node, bent on long overdue satisfaction.

Before Digen could do anything about it, concentrating as he was on holding the flow steady at all costs, selyn began to trickle tantalizingly into his primary system.

The rate was so low that it was barely perceptible. It seemed to filter across the scar tissue almost as if the scar wasn't there. Part of the flow was passing into his primary system at the vriamic node, bypassing the scar, using the secondary channels along his laterals, up his arms and into the vriamic node, then diverting into his primary system. It was something his body had learned to do to survive, to avoid transfer abort due to onset turbulence by shunting around the scar. It blocked satisfaction but it worked.

His primary system, long keyed up for transfer, reacted now as if his personal transfer had begun. Speed of selyn flow began to increase sharply. There was nothing Digen could do about it except try to keep his secondary system in control at the vriamic node and ride with it.

In one split instant, he had a decision to make and no time to think. He'd been suppressing his anti-kill conditioning so hard, there was no way it would act to throw him out of the transfer now. Having stumbled, he had no choice but to stagger forward until he regained his balance.

He fully expected to hit the GN-2 barrier and be slammed out of the transfer or into a killmode attack -- which would probably result in a suicide abort, the channel's last resort to prevent injury to a Gen. They said it was a pleasant way to die, though one never knew until one tried it.

But Digen had no time for such thoughts. He merely hung on, minimizing his draw speed by induction from his secondary system, aware of Rizdel's barriers trembling indecisively. He had spent nearly an hour intent on nothing but holding this transfer together. He couldn't reverse himself fast enough.

And so, Digen stripped all three of Rizdel's GN levels in turn, so fast he had no time to wonder what happened to the barriers. The TN-3 barrier loomed and still he couldn't stop himself.

Where the shenshid is Ilyana? Can't she see what's happening?

He felt it was his dying thought. When he touched the TN-3 barrier, he was sure to be thrown into a suicide abort. And then he knew what he had to do. There was only one way to get past the TN-3 barrier. To move faster than Rizdel could move. To shock-Qualify him, despite everything.

Digen didn't think it through just then. He moved on instinct alone. His objective was merely to get out of this without killing Rizdel. He saw a way to do it, and he did it. The key was that TN-1 barrier that wasn't locked into the reflex cascade. Reach that, he felt, and he'd be home free.

He pulled all the stops and reached for it, drawing selyn at half his maximum rate. With Rizdel's barriers partially up, he couldn't go any faster without killing the Gen with transfer shock. As it was, he'd be burning him dangerously if he misjudged by a hair.

Digen had been working so hard on keeping the flow smooth that now, when he abandoned all but the rapid, deep draw of personal satisfaction, he still drew smoothly, without any of the turbulence the non-Farris channels always raised. At half his proper speed, and against the Gen's knotted anguish, there was no satisfaction in it for him, but his primary system drank every dynopter greedily.

He struck deep into the TN-1 level and drained it fully. Rizdel, not being a trained Donor, did not have anything like enough selyn to begin to provide for Digen's personal need. When Rizdel's field hit rock bottom, Digen had only begun his draw. The ache of need was worse now that it had been fed a morsel. He could have struck and killed then. The killer rage burgeoned within him.

But the dynamics of the situation were changed. The flow had fallen to near zero. Once again, Digen's will was in command. His loyalty to the Tecton, ingrained since earliest childhood, was absolute.

He never knew exactly how he did it nor would he ever risk it again, but somehow, he managed a standard shock-Qualify termination -- sloppy and ragged by Zeor standards, but it worked well enough to throw him clear of the selyn flows, shutting down his internal systems as if in abort.

He wrenched his laterals off Rizdel's skin and reeled away from the lounge. Only then did the primary abort, triggered by the uneven flow across his lateral scar, hit him full force. He had moved so fast in the shock-Qualifying that it had taken him less time than his own reflexes. He never felt himself hit the floor.

In the grip of the double-abort, Digen came to once or twice, blearily aware of Ilyana pulling him back from the brink of death by main force of her indomitable will. He couldn't name what she was doing. She was one of those rare Donors who function more on instinct than training, the kind of Gen who invents procedures, not perfects them.

He came to awareness again when Ilyana was pulled away, shrieking hysterically, and Im'ran took her place. Then he passed into long darkness.

(Early parts of chapter deleted -- Digen begins his training at the hospital and discovers what Dr. Lankh is doing, but they have not yet confronted each other. He is summoned to a trial because of the illegal transfer technique he used on Rizdel. It is now almost a month later than the events related in the previous chapter.)

His trial came just six days before his appointed transfer with Im'ran, and he had to go into it ruled by need.

Mickland, nevertheless, insisted on a full formal hearing with all the trappings. But he did set the meeting up in the Tecton Conference Room, a hall much too large for the private proceedings, but which gave space to arrange the seating to spare Digen discomfort.

As Digen was formally escorted into the room, Mickland instructed the six panelists to break the seals on their copies of Digen's report and to read it thoroughly. Until then, the people from out of town had no idea who or what they were being called to judge.

Digen took his place at the focus of a semicircle of desks, facing the panel with Im'ran seated at his left. Everyone in the room was well briefed on Digen's condition and observed all the civilities.

Digen waited with Im'ran's hand lightly on his arm, shielding him while the panel read his report of the Rizdel Qualification. The cold shock reached him despite all Im'ran could do. Yet they were all Firsts. No hint of this would pass from this room unless he were judged guilty.

Mickland, presiding from the center desk directly in front of Digen, introduced the panel, using the formal names of the Householdings. "Asquith ambrov Imil, Sectuib in Imil. Sominar ambrov Bromon-in-Eisdale, Sectuib in Bromon-in-Eisdale. Anthelli ambrov Frihill, Sectuib in Frihill. Rindaleo Hayashi, QN-1, 3.49. Cloris Agar, QN-1, 3.8. Raft Hume, QN-1, 3.2, Controller in Eastfield District."

Digen had to admire Mickland. There was no way the man could be accused of stacking the panel against Digen. Yet the panel was neatly stacked against him. Raft Hume, Controller in Eastfield, had been elected on Mickland's coattails. Cloris Agar, it was well known, was sleeping with Mickland and expected to marry him soon. Rindaleo Hayashi was of course the only channel besides Digen knowledgeable in the shock-Qualifying technique, and so had to be on the panel. Yet he had every reason to be anti-Zeor and anti-Digen. Had things turned out differently, he could have ended up -- at least temporarily -- the first non-Farris Sectuib in Zeor. Digen had never met the man.

Asquith ambrov Imil had held a grudge against Digen ever since they were children and her father had wanted to trade her to Zeor for Digen, so Imil would have a Farris Sectuib, and Asquith could marry Wyner, becoming consort to the Sectuib in Zeor and possibly even second channel in Zeor. Digen, near hysterical with adolescent emotions he had never been able to understand, had told her to her face, and in public, that it was better to be fourth under Wyner than first anywhere else, and he'd never let her lay a tentacle on his brother. Wyner had hated her with a passion that literally threatened his frail life. Too sensitive.

The two other panelists, Sectuib in Bromon and Sectuib in Frihill, were good friends of Digen's and loyal supporters of Zeor. Mickland had no vote. In the event of a tie, the World Controller would decide on the basis of the minutes of the proceedings. But it was already four to two against Digen.

Mickland asked, "Digen ambrov Zeor ..."

There was a ripple of suppressed amusement and Mickland quickly amended, "Uh -- Digen Farris, Sectuib in Zeor, do you freely accept these six as your peers and just judges?"

Digen could have said no. In actual fact, not a one of these people was his equal. But Mickland had done as well as was humanly possible. Each of the panelists was Digen's equal in at least one aspect of the channel's craft. Each should be able to understand the report Digen had written.

Digen said, "I do freely accept Sectuib Asquith, Sectuib Sominar Varsi, Sectuib Anthelli Zehren, Hajene Rindaleo Hayashi, Hajene Cloris Agar, and Hajene Raft Hume as a duly chosen panel of my peers well equipped to judge the matter of Dane Rizdel's Qualification."

"Very well then," said Mickland, opening his copy of Digen's report. "First we will hear from Imrahan ambrov Imil, Companion in Imil."

Im'ran glanced woefully at Digen and moved to the witness chair behind Digen. Digen kept his eyes on Mickland but watched Im'ran's nager. The Gen felt guilt, and every Sime in the room knew it.

Mickland began questioning Im'ran on Digen's condition when he first came to Dane Rizdel's treatment room. But Anthelli Zehren said, "One moment." He motioned for Ben Seloyan to take Im'ran's place beside Digen. Seloyan was no substitute for Im'ran, but Digen accepted his help gratefully. The crosscurrents of tension in the room were already wearing on him.

Im'ran had to tell all he knew of Rizdel's condition before Digen first saw him, and then when Digen did come on the scene. At one point Im'ran twisted around to look at Rizdel. "I'm sorry, Dane, but ..." And to Mickland's question he answered straight out, "Dane was distraught, agitated, in my professional opinion he was on the verge of nervous collapse."

Raft Hume, Controller in Eastfield, said, "Describe for us Digen Farris's reaction when he first encountered Dane Rizdel's nager."

"He seemed in complete control of himself, attentive, analytical -- the kind of channel I have total confidence in."

"Yet he insisted on retiring for therapy prior to treating Rizdel?"

"He was still in recovery from treating Mora, after a night in that hospital. And he did study Rizdel's chart while I worked on him. He woke up with a whole new slant on the problem -- the key to the whole thing, as it turned out."

"Yet you've gone on record," said Cloris Agar, "as suggesting to Sectuib Farris that he was in no condition to work on Rizdel?"

"I merely suggested to him it was something to consider, and he assured me he had considered it thoroughly."

"But," said Controller Hume, "you held doubts?"

"I am not qualified to doubt the judgement of Sectuib Farris. Nobody in this room is, and we all know it."

Cloris Agar said, "Was it not your place, as a Companion, to restrain the Sectuib's natural zeal for his work?"

Im'ran said, manfully resisting a smile, "I am Companion in Imil, true, Hajene Agar. However, the Sectuib -- is Sectuib in Zeor."

Sominar Varsi, Sectuib in Bromon, stood up. "This farce has gone on long enough. It is clear to every Sime in the room that I speak for most all of us. The Tecton cannot meet to judge and punish the Sectuib in Zeor. He judges us. We do not judge him."

Varsi threw his copy of Digen's report onto Mickland's little desk. "Unless Dane Rizdel wishes to press charges, you have no case, Controller Mickland." Varsi started for the door ignoring the shock from Mickland and his supporters. Everyone else in the room began to rise and follow, muttering to each other, nagers combining in overwhelming approval. But Hayashi put out a tentacle to restrain Mickland's bursting temper and said loudly, "Wait a moment! The record has been officially opened. We must speak to Ilyana Dumas to verify this report. Then we must let Hajene Farris tell us why he chose Ilyana Dumas over Imrahan for his assistant. Then we can vote properly and adjourn with a closed record."

People took seats again, explaining it all to one another. Dismissed from the stand, Im'ran came back to Digen. Mickland called Ilyana Dumas and Digen inched closer to Im'ran as she took her place behind him. She was controlling herself admirably, playing the part of a Tecton Donor, glad to get a first hand look at Tecton law. Her occasional flashes of outrage or dismay were easily attributed by those who didn't know her background to the nature of the trial and to her unstable condition.

The panel questioned her minutely on how Digen had explained all the alternatives to Rizdel before proceeding with the transfer therapy. Then Asquith asked, "And what caused your barriers to fall like that?"

"I told you, I told everybody. I didn't mean to. My attention just -- wandered. I didn't know it would be such --"

Hayashi broke in. "I've tested her completely. She was functioning far beyond the limits of her native talent, which is considerable. Do any of you know a Donor who can hold an anti-thetical high-focus for over forty solid minutes? If so, I want to see that Donor in my lab first thing in the morning. It's the judgement of -- Hajene -- Farris in choosing the assistant which should interest this panel."

Cloris Agar said, "Then, in finishing with this witness, let me just ask how you know -- with first hand personal knowledge -- that Sectuib Farris did indeed intend to drain only Dane Rizdel's GN-3 level? That he did not secretly intend to shock-Qualify despite the law -- or that he did not succumb to -- temptation."

Ilyana came to her feet, nager searingly bright with stinging contempt. "He's a Farris! Not that you'd know what that means!"

"And you do?" asked Agar sardonically.

"A lot more intimately than you ever will!"

Suddenly Ilyana went cold, all anger replaced with a stilled caution unlike her. She sat down again. They were all puzzled by her reaction, some of the nearer Simes rubbing at tingling laterals ruefully. What could she have to hide? Obviously she wasn't trying to subvert Digen sexually. His chronic need made him immune to that.

Mickland broke the tableau by dismissing Ilyana and saying, "Sectuib Farris, please take the stand."

As Digen moved, Im'ran at his side, Anthelli Zehren stood up, "Digen, this is absurd. You don't have to defend yourself to us!" Zehren's embarrassment was echoed all around.

Digen stopped in the middle of the floor. The situation was potentially explosive. He said, "Hajene Hayashi has questioned my choice of assistant. Let me just demonstrate, for the formal record, something you may not have had time to notice in my report." He gestured with two tentacles. "Ilyana, could you step over here a moment?"

With one arm around Im'ran's shoulders and one around Ilyana's, Digen moved them into the center of the semicircle. As he moved away from the witness stand, there was an indefinable easing of subconscious tensions. "Im'ran," said Digen, "is a fanir -- as if you hadn't noticed. Ilyana, on the other hand, is a drifter -- a high-order drifter to be sure, but still a drifter. You can detect it if you watch closely."

He shifted his rhythms around so they could watch the difference between Ilyana's and Im'ran's reactions. "Im and Ilyana were the only Donors in all Westfield at that time who could have been any use to me. Documentation is appended to your reports." The people from out of town studied the appendix as Digen said, "The question is not why I chose the drifter. For what I originally intended, the drifter was the best choice. The question is why I did not foresee all of Dane Rizdel's transfer characteristics before I began. The answer is quite simple. I'm not omniscient. I'm a fallible mortal. Once I entered that room, it would have been a moral crime to worry Dane by switching assistants."

He had their complete attention. "I am guilty of violating the letter of Tecton law. But Tecton law had already nearly killed Dane Rizdel when applied by rote. I had to make a split-second decision -- by my oaths and the spirit of the Tecton drilled into me all my life. That decision came from the very essence of my being -- where I am a channel, not a torturer."

Digen sent Ilyana back to her place and beckoned to Rizdel. "Sectuib Asquith, come down here a moment. I'd like you to take a good look at Dane Rizdel."

Placing Im'ran where he could give Asquith a clear space to make a lateral contact examination of Rizdel, Digen suddenly understood that as long as he maintained the pose of an instructor rather than a defendant, the miasma of repressed anxiety in the room disappeared. Somehow, a threat to me is a threat to their most fundamental beliefs. How odd. It was true, even for his enemies.

"Sectuib Asquith, take particular note of the behavior of the TN-1 barrier. Dane, you don't mind, do you?"

Rizdel held out his hands to Asquith. "I'm used to being a specimen of the exotic. It's the one thing I have in common with the Farrises," quipped Rizdel.

Everyone chuckled. It broke the tension. In turn, the channels examined Rizdel, noting each point as Digen directed their attention to it. Hayashi was the last to come down from the dais and confront Digen.

Digen turned to look at the man. Hayashi was about fifty-five, a bit taller than Digen, heavier boned. He walked with a slight limp Digen discerned as due to some kind of nerve damage -- the type often left by a case of shaking plague.

"You don't remember me, do you?" asked Hayashi.

Hayashi's nager was charged with half a dozen distinct emotions. Digen, unable to speak under that barrage, shook his head.

Hayashi said, "I'm sorry." Abruptly, the air was cleared, holding only a strictly disciplined professional relationship between them. Into this new quiet, Hayashi said, "It was at Vira's change-over party. You were only four."

Vira, Digen's older sister, had died fighting the same outbreak of shaking plague which claimed his parents and two older brothers, and resulted in Hayashi's disgrace. Digen remembered Vira as the smallest one in the family, tough and wiry, almost un-Farris-like. At her changeover party, Digen had stolen a whole bowl of frosting from the kitchen and eaten it all at once. There had been a big Sime who took him out into the woods where he could be sick in private. Afterwards, they had had a long talk about Zeor standards, about human greed, about temptation, and about Sime need and the Zeor channel's control. Satisfied that Digen understood, in principle, what he had done wrong, the man had never told on him. Could that have been Hayashi?

Hayashi said, "That's ancient history." He put his arm around Rizdel, gave the young man a fatherly squeeze. "I've examined you enough already. You're doing fine." He fumed then and walked silently back to his place on the dais, his nager fragmenting with emotions and then solidifying under stern discipline, the obvious mark of Zeor training kept up by daily practice.

He's an outcast. I'm not supposed to feel sorry for him. Yet the man ached with such -- loneliness.

The room had fallen intensely silent, all searching for some clue to his relationship with Hayashi. At length, Asquith said, "May I suggest that things might have turned out differently had Sectuib Farris not been shorted in his transfers for nearly two solid years before he encountered such a test of skill and endurance?"

"May I point out," said Anthelli Zehren, "that Sectuib Farris accomplished a feat even more difficult than he had anticipated -- his patient is alive, well, and happy about the whole thing, which seems to me to vindicate his judgement ..."

"I wasn't attacking his judgement," said Asquith. "I am attacking the Tecton policies that have led to the shorting of a disproportionate number of Householding channels -- including the Sectuib in Zeor!"

"Oh, let's not start that!" said Zehren.

Controller Hume put in quickly, "There are just more Householders in the First Order, so naturally it seems that more of them get shorted."

Mickland cut him off. "This is not the place for partisan politics."

"Controller Mickland," said Hayashi, "the point is salient. If he -- of all of us -- can't take the kind of deferments the law hands out routinely ..."

Sominar Varsi finished the sentence, "... then the law will have to be changed!"

The murmur of agreement swelled, but Zehren's quiet voice cut through the noise. "If his need were a factor, he shouldn't have gone into that room in the first place. There's a law against doing that. Section 509." He riffled the pages of Digen's report. "I don't see anything here. Digen, did you lose control primarily, or even peripherally, because of your state of need?"

"No," said Digen, and paused for all the channels to verify that in his nager. "In fact, ironically enough, had I not been in such need, I couldn't have pulled it off so neatly. But there was no way of knowing that when I entered the room."

"I think we're all in agreement," said Sominar Varsi. "I call for a vote. Is Digen Farris guilty of willful or negligent violation of the law, or was it technically an accident, requiring only a routine reprimand unless Dane Rizdel proffers charges?"

Mickland said, "Now, wait a minute ..."

But he was drowned out by a chorus of "Accident" and "Technical accident" from Zehren, Asquith, Varsi, and Hayashi. Varsi got to his feet again. "That settles it, four out of six. Let's go have lunch."

In the general movement to follow Varsi, everyone was talking at once. Mickland stood and bellowed, "Silence! I am the only one here empowered to conduct a vote!"

It was more the anger in his nager that stopped the exodus, but when he had their attention, he said, "I -- do not understand why you insist on setting the Sectuib in Zeor up on some kind of pedestal above us ordinary mortals! You wouldn't let me walk out that door after such a cursory discussion, would you? You are assuming that the Sectuib in Zeor -- because his great-great-grandfather founded the Tecton -- just can do no wrong. But you haven't looked to see if he did do something wrong!"

Mickland's anger covered a bitter well of inchoate emotions that virtually paralyzed every Sime in the room. Ben Seloyan moved to Mickland's side, trying to cut the worst of it for them all. In a moment, a renewed babble of conversation broke out.

"... not true! ..."

"... Sectuib is not an inherited ..."

"... old aristocracy charge, but we're a demo ..."

"... sn't he know the first thing about Householding ..."

"... how could such a lorsh be elected Contr ..."

"... Zeor channels have always been ..."

"... Sectuib means the best channel, not ..."

Digen moved up beside Mickland to help Seloyan calm him down. He raised his hands for silence, and in moments had all their attention.

"Controller Mickland is absolutely right," said Digen. "As far as these proceedings are concerned, my status in Zeor is irrelevant."

"Just considering your official rating alone," said Sominar Varsi, who was now standing in the middle of the floor, "a three point nine eight ..."

"... doesn't give him any sort of innate moral superiority," said Cloris Agar.

"If anyone has any questions, or any reservations, about this matter," said Digen, "they should be brought out and discussed before the record is closed."

"In that case," said Controller Hume, who was the only one still seated in his own place, "I have one other point that's been bothering me." He had one hand spread across a page of Digen's report where a graph displayed clearly the course of the transfer itself. "Why didn't this transfer -- which according to this graph here on page forty-three was a full scale killmode attack -- end in a suicide abort?"

The room went dead silent.

The shock in the room was almost palpable to the channels. Digen broke the stillness by moving out onto the floor where Im'ran and Rizdel stood together. People drifted back to their places at Mickland's urging. "Controller Hume has the floor."

Hume got up, holding the report so everyone could see one of the graphs Digen had drawn from his memory of the transfer. "Is this, or is this not, a killmode attack? Of course it is, we can all see that. Now it should terminate like this." With a marker, he slashed across the page, drawing the typical curve of a suicide abort. "Or at the very least, so." He made a second line, characteristic of a simple abort.

"Why doesn't it?" asked Hume rhetorically. "We all know how the Sectuib spends his spare time -- poking needles into Gen flesh, slicing living selyn-producing tissues, generally exposing himself to every manner of Gen pain sixteen hours a day without the benefit of a Donor's services. We all know how that can undermine a channel's anti-kill conditioning. He didn't abort that attack because he could not. He had to take a desperate gamble on a nonstandard technique. He won, but that doesn't exonerate him -- or us. If we dismiss these charges as a mere accident -- the next accident might well be the Sectuib in Zeor gone junct!"

Hume really believed what he was saying. Eyes turned toward Digen, haunted with suspicion, doubt, even fear. It was as if he had suddenly been possessed by some dark, evil force. The free-floating anxiety was back in the room, repressed knowledge of some very personal threat.

Suddenly, Cloris Agar began flipping pages. "It has been twelve -- no, closer to sixteen, years since Sectuib Farris was in-Test. He could have lost his conditioning and we'd never know it."

"He's exempt," said Hayashi. "With his lateral scar, a full testing would kill him."

"We wouldn't require a full testing to settle this, just a Provocation Limit to see if Rizdel was able to provoke him to a kill. Then we'd know whether this so-called shock-Qualification was not in fact a full-scale kill attack which Rizdel survived because he's such a good Donor."

The Provocation Limit, the amount of fear it took at a certain field gradient to provoke a Sime to the kill, was intimately tied to the channel's anti-kill conditioning.

"Your misgivings," said Hayashi, "are reasonable. However, the curve has the killmode shape because that is what the shock-Qualification really is, an all-out killmode attack which is nevertheless under very strict control."

"That's a contradiction in terms," snapped Agar.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Hayashi with equanimity. "But that's an example, a very small example, of what it is to be Sectuib in Zeor."

"I wouldn't have expected you to defend him," said Agar.

"I'm not," answered Hayashi mildly. "I was put on this panel to provide facts. And that's one of them. The shock-Qualification is a kill which is so fast the Gen has no time to react, hence puts up no resistance, and thus doesn't get hurt. The second fact you seem to have overlooked is that the Rizdel affair happened the day after Digen started work at the hospital, hardly time for his conditioning to have been undermined."

Hume said, "But he had spent years in those Gen schools, learning how to cut people up with knives!"

Digen wanted to protest that in his school, students didn't get much practice with live patients, but he knew it would do no good at all. He had learned to give injections, and that, by their measure, was surgery. And now he was doing much more than that daily. There was no way he could continue to function in this Center -- no way he would ever get surgery accepted in-Territory -- if they distrusted him like this.

"Controller Mickland," said Digen, stopping the discussion. "As a Tecton channel, I demand that those who have raised these suspicions about me, and those who have heard them spoken, witness now my Provocation Limit testing."

"Digen, you can't!" said Im'ran, but Digen held him quiet with a raised finger. He was within his rights and intended to force the issue and clear his name.

Hume laughed aloud. "A very safe demand! Who in the world would volunteer to be target in such a test? And is there a Gen in this District who could stop you from an actual kill?"

For the first time in minutes, Ilyana's confusion cleared and she moved out beside Digen, muttering to him, "I don't know what all this is about, but ..." And aloud she said to the panel, "I could stop him."

"I believe she could," said Hayashi. And since he was an authority of world-wide stature in such things, nobody challenged it.

Im'ran got up besides Digen. "I'm not afraid of the Sectuib in Zeor. I'd volunteer to be his target, but this is insanity."

Ben Seloyan and several other Donors took a few tentative steps in Digen's direction, also volunteering, but more out of shame than real confidence.

Im'ran turned beseechingly to the audience. "Isn't the fact that he's willing to do this enough for you?"

But it wasn't. The currents of doubt ran deep and dark through the whole room. They believed that a channel who daily sliced Gen flesh with his own hands could hardly remain sane. This was Digen's chance to prove, graphically, that it was possible to bring surgery in-Territory -- possible, and even safe, if you knew how.

"I accept Im'ran as my target and Ilyana as safety."

"Digen," said Im'ran. "You're not going to go through with this!"

Hume heard that. "Nobody would fault you, Im, for backing out. It would only be common sense."

Im'ran faced him and said, "I'm not worried for myself, Controller. I'm only worried for my patient."

Mickland said, "If you insist, Hajene Farris, then let us proceed."

Digen did insist. Im'ran and Ilyana stood by him stoically. Mickland sent for the necessary equipment while everyone pitched in to move the furniture out of the center of the hall. At one end of the hall, they placed a U-shaped baffle that would focus the selyn field of the target, Im'ran, directly at Digen, who would stand at the opposite end of the hall.

The channels arranged themselves behind the baffle so that Im'ran's field would not reach them. Each was accompanied by a Donor to prevent them from reacting to the target's fear. As they finished laying out the test area, officially recording the dimensions and field gradients, somebody brought in the pressure bottle of fear- inducing gas.

Im'ran picked up the face mask, putting one hand to the valve controls. He checked the label, then flushed a bit of the gas, wafting it toward himself with one hand, sniffing analytically. Then, holding the mask, he looked toward Digen.

Digen readied himself in place, toeing the line marked in the carpet. He nodded. Im'ran hesitated, stifling one last protest. To his right, Ilyana muttered, "What is that stuff? What are you going to do?"

Im'ran told her what the gas would do to him. "You just stand by to catch Digen before he kills himself."

Ilyana, after weeks of one shock after another, was beyond feeling horrified or outraged. She simply watched, pinned to the spot with fascination.

To Im'ran's right, Hayashi had set up an official recorder. It purred to itself, the sheet of graph paper unwinding under the array of moving pens. Cloris Agar, the ranking channel in the room after Digen, held the lead out from the recorder, ready to mark the point at which Digen reached his Provocation Limit.

"Ready," said Agar. "Go ahead, Im."

Steeling himself, Im'ran clamped the mask over nose and mouth, drawing three measured breaths before flinging it aside. In moments, the strong, steady fanir's beat that had filled the room was shattered.

Hayashi moved to Ilyana's side, himself tensed against the onslaught of induced terror. "You must wait until Cloris calls it," he told Ilyana in an undertone. "Interfere too soon, and we'll have to do it all over again.

On Agar's signal, Digen had begun his slow, steady advance across the lines marked on the carpet. Ilyana watched Digen, but said to Hayashi, "I think -- I'm beginning -- to understand." Suddenly, she turned, clutching Hayashi's sleeves. "You've got to stop this! He'll kill Im'ran!"

"Ilyana, you can't possibly believe that!" Then, in a whisper, he said, "You don't know much about Farrises, do you? Listen. Im is in no danger. But Digen is. It's your job to see he doesn't complete a suicide abort."

Digen had slowed his advance, taking longer to adjust to the rise in gradient as he neared the selyn source. Im'ran had stood, fists clamped before his mouth, shaking visibly where he stood. Now he broke, retreating into the curve of the baffle, and cowered there, whimpering uncontrollably. The Donors all moved closer to their channels.

Digen paused as he came abreast of Ilyana and Hayashi. To him, their combined field was negligible compared to the throbbing beacon that was the terrified fanir. The baffle behind Im'ran reflected and focused Im'ran's field at the point just ahead of Digen. The preliminaries were over.

Digen glanced at Ilyana, summoning a confident smile. Inwardly, he was shaking. She turned from Hayashi and met Digen's gaze. Suddenly, Digen saw the whole situation through her Distect eyes. In the Distect, only the Gen was responsible in transfer. Im'ran had now thrown the entire responsibility onto Digen, who was proudly pledged to die rather than hurt any Gen.

The measure of excellence in the Tecton was the measure of depravity in the Distect.

Digen looked at Im'ran, cowering in the fetal position. The power of his field was not reduced one whit by the gas. The fear reached Digen on the most primal level of all.

Suddenly, Digen wanted nothing but to get this over with as quickly as possible. He stepped into the focal plane, paused long enough for the recorder to respond, then stepped through into the relatively low field area beyond.

It hit him all at once. Need such as he hadn't known since the years he fought his injury.

He got a firm grip on himself, but still his glands ached as they poured juices into his system. His lateral sheaths filled with ronaplin. He fought the involuntary dilation of his lateral orifices, the spasmodic extension of his lateral tentacles. He no longer had to will himself to take a step forward and another. Suddenly, he found himself within reach of Im'ran, and forced himself to stop there.

The weeks that Im'ran had spent attuning himself to Digen, deliberately setting up a high-intil transfer for them, could not be wiped away by the fear gas, or by an act of will. Im'ran was the sole object in Digen's universe, the one source of light and warmth, the single hope of life.

Digen was no longer aware of the drug, could no longer tell himself this was only a test. All at once, he went hyperconscious, his vision and tactile senses blacking out as only his selyn senses registered.

To him, Im'ran was not a person, but merely a ball of golden fire throbbing brighter by the moment. His own body was a dim flicker, faltering and dimming by the second. He could almost feel what it would be like to take the warmth into himself, to come alive again.

Somewhere, planted deep down in him, was the insistent knowledge that this was the one thing he must not do. The inhibition held him poised on the brink of drawing the needed breath of life into himself. He could not deny himself the luxury of just looking, of imagining, of wishing, of wanting, and finally of touching.

He ignored the fear, telling himself, "No, not now, not yet." He could wait, because this wasn't what he wanted of Im'ran.

But, without warning, his defenses crumbled, and the not now, not yet turned to a panic of if not now, then never! All the horrible nightmares of attrition burgeoned up from his subconscious. The Gen was going to run away, denying him his due.

Digen tore into the reservoir of selyn with a savage glee, until, with cold shock, he recognized what he was doing. The kill.

The pain tore through him. Gen pain and fear and terror. He was fighting for his life, fighting to overcome his victim. The harder he fought, the more pain he caused, the searing all-over pain of transfer burn. It should have triggered the anti-kill conditioning and aborted the transfer.

All of a sudden, he knew it wasn't going to.

Im'ran's terror, driven into Digen by the fanir's nager, so very high field and so carefully attuned to Digen, was much stronger than any pain. He was being held into the transfer despite the abort reflex which was wracking him repeatedly but ineffectually. I'm killing him!

No!

Without transition, he was floating in bliss and limbo, aware of nothing but a peculiar, sourceless pleasure.

It lasted the barest fraction of an instant. He jolted back into reality, wrapped round in the pulsing selyn field of a powerful Gen. It went so deep into him that, confused and disoriented, he thought he'd died and been reborn Gen.

Everything snapped into focus. He was lying across Im'ran, Ilyana flung over half his body, and Hayashi's words still ringing in his ears. "Suicide abort!" Hayashi had literally thrown Ilyana at Digen.

Digen, sandwiched between the two Gen fields at the closest possible range, did not yet feel the shock of the abort he had taken. His need still ruled him, though oddly, he was duoconscious -- seeing with both eyes and Sime senses. Internally, his systems were still in transfer mode, though there was no selyn flow. He'd never been in such a condition before.

Ilyana drew breath and struggled to kneel beside Digen. Her hands sought his to draw him to her in his need. Her barriers were flat open and in moments she had matched his rhythms perfectly. His awareness of Im'ran faded and was forgotten.

Hyperconscious again, Digen could only watch as Ilyana began to feed selyn into his systems, deftly, responsive to his every shift, even somehow automatically compensating for his lateral scar. He was too numb to evaluate what was happening. He could only accept the pure goodness of it.

Without warning, Ilyana was gone.

The contact was ripped from him, leaving shredded nerves. His whole body went into spasm, muscle locked against muscle, bending him into a backward bow. After the first instant, he knew nothing.

He came to with Mickland and Hume bending over him, holding lateral contact with him by pressure on his lateral extensor nodes. His body ached with the full impact of the punishment it had undergone. He felt the afterimage of an inhalant mask on his face and knew that he'd been drugged.

All around the room, people relaxed, sighing, shuffling the kinks from tense muscles, muttering to their neighbors. There was a sense of crisis passed and over with.

Digen struggled free and sat up, trying to piece together what had happened. "Who pulled me out of -- Ilyana, where's Ilyana?"

She was there, held between Mora Dyen and Jesse Elkar.

"Digen!" she said as soon as she saw he was aware of her. "I didn't shen you. I wouldn't. I swear! They pulled me away."

"She tricked you into an illegal transfer. We had to knock her out to stop it."

Digen looked at Ilyana, then to where Im'ran had been. He was gone now, taken to an isolation room to recover from the gas. But Digen could still remember being sandwiched between those two Gen fields. He could remember that, despite Im'ran's wild, pathological fear -- the most enticing of all stimuli -- despite Im'ran being nearly ripe for transfer with Digen -- he had preferred Ilyana.

He looked at her now with new eyes. How could God grant one mortal such power over another?

Her face crumpled under Digen's silent gaze and she yanked herself free of the two channels and planted herself before Mickland. "To you it's a crime to offer transfer, but it's no crime to shen in mid-commitment? This is what your Tecton stands for, and you actually expect me to pledge to you? Never! I'm going home where people are sane and I can die respectably!"

She whirled and started for the door, leaving a paralytic nageric thunderclap in her wake.

Digen leapt to his feet, a surge of adrenaline erasing all his aches. "No, you're not! I order you to remain here, Naztehr Rior!"

She spun at the door, rooted in place by sheer surprise. The entire room was silent as those who had not known about Ilyana absorbed the implications. As Sectuib in her parent House, and in absence of her own Sectuib, Digen had the right, by Householding custom, to issue that order and expect obedience.

In modem times, however, the power of the Sectuib had slowly eroded. No longer did all Simes pledged not to kill have to live behind fortified Householding walls, prepared to do battle with Sime or Gen raiders at any moment. No longer did a Householder's very life depend on the Sectuib. And so the Sectuib held only ceremonial power.

Digen was gambling. From all he'd seen of Ilyana, Rior was something out of ancient history, still observing the old customs he had thought preserved only in Zeor. He stood his ground before her and did not repeat his order.

She stared back at him, unable to move, torn between her revulsion for anything Tecton and her ingrained reverence for Digen's office.

"Ilyana," said Digen, "I know you didn't shen me voluntarily. I know you wouldn't do such a thing, especially not to me."

He took a step toward her, cautiously, as one approaches a skittish animal. "I know you did what you thought right. You have to understand that they did what they had to do, too. They couldn't stand by and permit an illegal transfer, or they'd be as guilty as I. I'm grateful to them for what they did."

"Why?" she asked, almost sobbing. "What is the hold they have over you to make you deny your own nature like this -- with Im'ran, with me? What does it all prove? In the name of all that's sacred, what does it all prove?"

He came closer, drew her by the hand over to the recorder that still whirred away, spilling curls of chart paper onto the floor. "Ilyana, let me show you the cornerstone of the Tecton, of what the Householdings have stood for all these centuries, what all our ancestors -- even Hugh Valleroy, your own Founder -- died for."

But deep inside, as his hands went through the motions of finding the tracings of the test, a small, bitter voice kept repeating, Yes, what does it all prove? He knew the answer, but for the first time in his life, it was just words which had become detached from their meaning. He said them now to Ilyana in a dogged attempt to reconnect them with the roots of his own beliefs.

"Our conditioning implanted during the first few transfers we take is the insurance behind our pledge that no channel will ever harm a Gen -- especially one who is frightened."

He fumbled with the chart paper, running the characteristic tracing of a suicide abort back to the moment just before he'd been thrown clear. "What I was telling you last month in Mickland's office about how we work so hard to gain and keep our vriamic control, so we can function even for a Gen ruled by fear -- Ilyana, this peak here measures --"

Oh, dear God! The prayer was wrenched from him in pure astonishment. His hands had run back along the record strip, exposing foot after foot of graph where all the pens had been pinned at the top of the scale.

The peak prior to the abort would have been his Provocation Limit, a number from which his Proficiency Rating could have been roughly estimated. But there was no peak.

He discovered now that he was still saying words that had no meaning. "The goal of the Tecton, the ultimate reason for the Tecton's existence, is to -- to -- "

Mickland came and took the paper from Digen's hands, saying, "Somebody shut that thing off. Digen, you're in no ..." His eyes fell to the paper.

The other channels gathered around, for the first time taking in the indisputable record of the testing. Hayashi, the only one not the least surprised at the results, turned off the machine, saying, "Well, so much for our nice, pat theories of transfer mechanics. Don't say I haven't warned you."

They had all known, of course. They had seen Digen hold transfer position with Im'ran without initiating a selyn flow for eight minutes. It had taken that long for him to reach his breaking point, and a bare fraction of a second after the flow began, he was in suicide-abort. Only Hayashi had been alert enough to throw Ilyana in to break the suicide pattern. They had seen it happen, but the objective evidence on the chart somehow made it all real.

"He's a four-plus," said Hayashi. "His father was a double-Farris, and with his lateral injury, he's had to learn all manner of control us ordinary people would never dream of. And he is the Sectuib in Zeor. If he says it was an emergency shock-Qualification, then that is what it was and nothing else."

Digen wasn't the only four-plus in the world. There had always been a few Firsts whose performance could not be measured, who seemed to tap some level beyond the First. Digen had known, in a theoretical way, that he must test four-plus by now, just from ordinary growth. But for him too, the graph made it real as never before.

He locked eyes with Ilyana. Of all the Gens he'd encountered in the last several years, she stood out as special -- different in an indefinable but very real way. And now he knew what it must be. She, too, was a four-plus.

"She's his matchmate," somebody whispered.

"And she's Distect!" said Agar in a clear voice. That broke the spell. Controller Hume stepped between Digen and Ilyana. "Somebody get her out of here!" Then he swung on Mickland. "Don't you know what a matchmate is? How could you let them work together on Rizdel? You want the Sectuib in Zeor trapped into a lortuen with a Distect Gen?"

Mickland backed away, warding off Hume's wrath. "I swear I didn't know anything about the Rizdel thing until it was all over!" He was telling the absolute truth in that, and every Sime in the room knew it.

Sectuib Asquith skewered Digen with a look. "Did you know she was Distect when you did Rizdel?"

Digen pulled himself up straight. His knees were shaking with sudden weakness. "Yes. She thought I ought to kill Dane in transfer for throwing Mora into several aborts. I wanted to demonstrate to her how sometimes a channel can actually cure a Gen of fear and make a Donor out of him. Apparently, the demonstration wasn't entirely convincing."

"If she's your matchmate," said Agar, "she has a basal selyn production rate so exactly equal to your basal consumption rate that she has power over you no other Gen would have. Did she trip you into killmode with Rizdel on purpose?"

"No," said Digen flatly. "Don't forget, she saved my life afterwards -- and again, just now."

Anthelli Zehren shoved a chair behind Digen's knees, saying, "Sit down before you fall down, Sectuib ambrov Zeor."

Digen sank gratefully into the chair. Varsi hauled Ben Seloyan over to Digen and physically placed Seloyan's hands on Digen's neck. "You're ranking Donor here, Ben."

Elbows on his knees, Digen braced his head in his hands. He was finally succumbing to abort reaction. Seeing this, Ben Seloyan began treating Digen while Zehren blocked fields for them. Slowly, Digen felt his systems responding.

Asquith said, "Digen, if you have any shred of loyalty to the Tecton, I don't see how you could dare expose yourself to a woman like that one."

Somebody gasped, "How could you say such ..."

"What?" retorted Asquith. "I shouldn't assume his loyalties could be changed? If she gets her hooks into him, he'll do anything to please her -- anything! Or haven't you seen lortuen?"

"I've seen it," said Varsi. "But I also know Digen."

"Look," said Digen, plucking Seloyan's hands from his neck. "I expect Im'ran will be able to handle me without any difficulty -- if not this time, next time. When he's qualified four-plus, Ilyana won't be the only one around I can really turn to."

Asquith was pacing back and forth, turning the new situation every which way in her mind. She stopped in front of Digen as he spoke. "Haven't you thought what's going to happen when news of this gets out? A Distect Gen running about Westfield Center, raving about the perverted Tecton, seducing the Sectuib in Zeor -- not once, but twice -- into illegal transfers? We've got to do something!"

"Before word gets out about her," answered Digen, "she'll be begging us to let her pledge and Qualify."

Zehren said, "A race against time? It's too risky."

"That's what I've been telling him," said Mickland.

Digen couldn't remember Mickland ever saying that.

Zehren said, "Digen, you have to admit your judgement won't be very objective where your own matchmate is concerned. You've been exposed too much already. There's no telling how much she's already affected you."

"Let's not tell scare stories," said Varsi. "We've got a problem. No hint of connection between Digen and this Distect refugee must leave this room. We can't afford anything undermining confidence in us, now, in the midst of the worst Donor shortage in history. The out-Territory Gens are already running scared."

Zehren climbed up on a chair. "We're all Firsts here, bound to each other by more than just oaths. We must all pledge now, by our oath to the Tecton and by our vows to each other, to keep the matter of the Distect Gen to ourselves until it is completely resolved."

The Householders gathered about Zehren, forming a circle, but the others hung back until Cloris Agar said, joining the circle, "This a matter which transcends all our differences with the Householders. This is a threat to the whole Tecton."

Zehren led the pledge, resurrecting the words from the vows of the First Order. Digen heard the familiar words in snatches. "... a First has opened me -- to my first level ..."

For Digen, it had been his sister Bett, and his very first transfer had opened his first level. The words brought back the awe of the whole experience.

"... this was done to me that I may serve mankind, but not myself ..."

They were all reliving their Qualifications as they repeated the words, evoking the terrible sense of responsibility to something above and beyond themselves. No one person could face it alone. In those very first moments of realization of the harm -- or the good -- they could do, they had all turned to the one whose touch opened them, and through that one, drew on the strength of all who carried this same burden -- the Firsts. Digen had made it a point to be there when it all came real for Rizdel, just as Bett had been with him, and to administer the vow of Firsts to him.

"... as one First has been to me, all Firsts will be to me ..."

This was the essence of the Tecton, the thing that transcended the walls of the Householdings and united them. As one First, all Firsts. In a life of shuttling from town to town, a life dedicated to something outside and beyond themselves, the one stable thing in their universe that they could count on without qualm or question, day or night, was this one bond. As one First, all Firsts.

There were forces that governed their lives that no outsiders could comprehend, forces strong enough to weld them together in an intimacy deeper than any family's, deeper than any Householding's.

Digen was reminded of the Hippocratic oath he had taken with such misgivings. "I will look upon him who shall have taught me this Art even as one of my Parents. I will share my substance with him, and I will supply his necessities, if he be in need. I will regard his offspring even as my own brethren, and I will teach them this Art, if they would learn it, without fee or covenant."

It's not so different. We just ask more of ourselves.

"... and so I pledge silence in this matter, Unto the Tecton --" Zehren paused until all had finished, then added with the other Householders, "-- and Unto Frihill -- Forever!"

"... and Unto Zeor, Forever," Digen finished.

"To the Firsts, to the Tecton, and to Zeor, thought Digen. Isn't it really just one oath? The Tecton is the realization of everything Zeor stands for, and the Firsts are the heart of the Tecton. If one fails, they all fail.

Digen heard them discussing again, but it was all distanced by a ringing in his ears.

Asquith, pacing, said, "We must tender a report on the charges we were brought here to judge. I call for a vote here and now -- and remember, we don't want this investigated any further. So let's make it unanimous that the Rizdel Qualification was an accident, and let the World Controller's office put through a routine disciplinary action."

The world faded in and out several times for Digen, and the last time it went black, he heard somebody say, "Get Im'ran! Somebody run get Im'ran! He must be all right by now, just get him!"