He spent the next two hours alternately pacing circles about his couch and sitting on it staring at the blanked display screen.Three times he went to the inter-view to call Welch or Bier or Cobb, but he couldn't think of anything to say that would convince them.
Pressuring an Inhibited wasn't against their ethics. He went over and over the conversation he'd had with Welch pin-pointing each mistake he'd made and berating himself for saying the first word. He should have known better than to match wits with the Captain, or glances with Bier's diagnostic eyes.
Even though Welch had promised not to use personal pressure, he could still influence a five-way conversation so that Talbert would be backed into a corner; sacrifice his own personal integrityor accept public responsibility for a planet of dead human beings.
And Talbert was a Gen. Now he would want to make that sacrifice, but years from how, he might change his mind. If the story got out that he was pressured into overriding the Inhibitor, in effect, that he was not allowed to resign his TN status, it could easily mushroom into a panic that nobody was ever allowed to resign. Without the volunteer TNs, the Sime-Gen union was impossible.
The human race hadn't advanced one bit in the last thousand years. They were still able to overlook the fact that the Inhibitor had irrevocably failed hours before anybody besides Talbert knew about it.
A TN-1 got only one chance at the Inhibitor. Once it had failed him, it would never effect him again. One chance to resign; and if the desire to resign were strong, it could take a long time for him to admit defeat. He might even prefer death. Or he might wait so long that he went permanently insane. But it was his decision to make, his and his alone, his private battle with himself and his conscience.
When he'd reached this point for the fourth time, Klairon paced to his desk for the fourth time to confront the inter-view screen. He had to act! He would!
He pulled the little inter-view console toward him and seated himself before the bulkhead screen. His fingers moved across the controls automatically as his ventral tentacles made the adjustments to inboard reception and auto-scan of his person, so he could move freely. He sounded the B-flat note that was Bier's personal designation three times, urgent.
Bier's image appeared on the screen, alone. He was seated in the dining commons, elbows on the table, head propped on his clasped hands.
Taking a deep breath, Klairon plunged ahead. "Pete, I have to apologize for my abominable behavior. I called you an unforgivable name. I had no right, and it's certainly untrue."
"Nonsense. I am 'Krind,' an outsider poking his nose in without paying for the privilege. You don't need direct selyn transfer experience to understand the connotations of that term, and, even when it's used in its most derogatory tone, it's still true of me."
He paused for emphasis. "I know you're required to apologize, so I accept, but believe me, I never took offense. And, if it's any comfort to you, I respect the rights of an inhibited as much as you do. I have a sister who's on the Inhibitor," he gazed straight into Klairon's eyes, speaking slowly, driving every word with sincerity, "and I've protected Lowell just as I would have protected her."
"Pete, what I wanted to say was that if any of you influence him in any way ... at all ... I won't accept him. I told the Captain that, and I meant it. The Principle is very clear in this case, and it is more valuable than the lives of half of humanity's billions. I've ..."
Talbert stepped into the picture, calmly, assuredly, and laid a fine, long fingered hand on Bier's shoulder. "Please," he bent to speak into Bier's ear, softly but in a voice that carried to Klairon. "I must speak now."
Bier relinquished his seat, and Talbert sat down bringing his face into the field of focus.
For the first time, Klairon took a good look at the Inhibited. Lowell Talbert had the almost white-blond hair and pale blue eyes characteristic of the humans of Dyei, the third world colonized from Earth, and one of the few colonies with a native, non-human civilization.
Talbert was so thin his joints bulged like bearings between the long shafts of his bones and the cords of his neck stood out sharply when he swallowed. His nose was long and straight, his skin pale and smooth. He spoke softly, melodically.
"Sectuib, I come before you in respect; I speak the CommonTongue, for others are involved. I make a claim on your attention." Talbert spoke the formal words of a TN bidding for the ear of a channel with a strong Dyei's accent, savouring the vowels and coming down ever so delicately on the consonants. The cant of his native speech overlay his words so thickly that he seemed to just sketch the shape of a sentence, not really enunciating the words at all.
For a long moment, Klairon studied this Dyei'n TN-1 critically, trying to decide if he should listen. Perhaps, he, too, might be influenced by Welch's arguments, even if filtered through a third party. Actually, he had no choice. If he was going to stick bythe Principles, he had to observe them all. He'd been addressed as Sectuib; he was obliged to listen.
"Sosu, I cannot deny such a plea if it is entered in earnestness and independently motivated. Speak and I shall listen." Klairon wished he'd heeded that premonition and stayed on Terwhoolie, green shadows, skew shapes and all. Talbert spread his large, bony hands on the table and examined the bare fingers minutely.
"It is a story I wish to tell. A story of a tragedy. A story of a personal tragedy. And it is entirely my own wish that I tell it and tell it in my very own way." He looked up at the others with him that Klairon couldn't see, suddenly aware that he had not been speaking clearly enough. With obvious effort, he separated his words and suppressed his tendency to a lilting rhythm. As he spoke, the thumb of his right hand began to rub his right forefinger as if removing some specially tenacious glue.
"It began three years ago with my marriage to the woman I had loved and courted for five years. We had a deliriously joyous honeymoon on Earth, the most romantic planet in the universe. For one whole month, we put aside the vast differences between us, and explored each other with fervent hopes for a bright future. When we returned to Dyei, she was pregnant. Our joy was complete.
"But the honeymoon was over. Our differences ripped us apart. I had made Technical Service my career, rising rapidly from TN-3 to TN-1, and constantly studying until I was in line for an administrative position that would have guaranteed a minimum of travel. Rita, my wife, had always been violently anti-Sime. With her, it amounted to a phobia, but she repeatedly refused to seek aid.
"It soon became apparent that the child was to be a channel, but Rita refused to believe it. That she, a Gen of a Gen family could mother a Sime was beyond her belief. That she could mother a channel was incredible to her, especially since I also come of an almost solidly Gen family. I could not believe the extent of her hysterical blindness.
"She accepted that thirty percent of the children of two Gens are Sime, and that a Sime is indistinguishable from a Gen until puberty, but she could not understand that that's not true for a channel. She would not believe that a channel can be identified by his pre-natal selyn draw which is death to a Gen mother. A fact which, I believe, one of your ancestors discovered?"
Talbert paused, looking up at Klairon's image on the bulkhead screen, avoiding his eyes, but gazing fixedly at the sensitive lips so characteristic of the Farris family. Klairon nodded, admitting to his mainline Farris heritage. Out of his line of sight, Welch smiled, his long suspicion confirmed. The Farrises weren't the only QNs but the mainline Farrises were apt to be the best, and the most influential.