"There's a lot you don't know about me, yet. Like—I was rejected for Third Order Donor training by the Tecton. It nearly crushed me."
The girl's accent held overtones of a Sime territory somewhere to the northwest of Householding Invor—possibly Alberta Leaf Territory. She looked as if she might have some Indian blood. "You zlin like a Third, though . . ."
The channel answered. "She doesn't zlin like a Third to a channel, because she never Qualified Third. She was rejected by the Tecton because she has extremely high internal barriers, a very low yield of selyn, yet she delivers that selyn at what any Third Order channel would consider violent speed. She has the speed of a First, and there's no way to train her to deliver the capacity of a First, or at the speed of a Third. She'd make an ideal transfer mate for you, Laneff. May I make a contact examination?"
Jarmi held her breath to keep from cheering. Laneff simply nodded and extended her tentacles to twine them about the channel's tentacles. Then, the channel twined her laterals around Laneff’s laterals and made lip contact in full transfer position.
The woman's fields penetrated to Laneff’s core, but without the delicate dimensionality of a First Order channel's touch. Anxiety billowed through Laneff as the channel created selyn movement throughout their linked systems. But it was slow and clumsy movement. Unable to stand it another instant, Laneff retracted her laterals and pushed the channel away, gasping.
Instantly embarrassed, Laneff apologized.
"That's all right," soothed the channel. "I'm not used to handling Farrises. But your previous transfer has left your system in prime condition, though coitally deprived. No residual killbliss need. So this is a good time for you two to start a relationship. Jarmi is high-field– as high as she ever gets. You're matched in speed and capacity. But" —she turned to Jarmi—"style may give you problems. You've never handled an active junct before. And Laneff is fast. I couldn't judge levels within the First range. There could be a discrepancy between you two that I can't perceive. There shouldn't be any real difficulty, though, if you handle her firmly."
Jarmi smiled, the relief she felt pulsing through her nager. "I'll handle her carefully, all right! She deserves the best!"
At that point, Yuan swung into the room, talking before his eyes focused on them. "I certainly hope you have good news for me tonight, because– Laneff! Jarmi!" He beamed. "Paired?"
Jarmi answered, shyly, "For just one transfer, but I'm hoping."
The ponderous brilliance of his field lit the whole office as he turned to the channel, hugging her spontaneously. "You see, Bianka, I was right!"
In that single moment before Yuan let her go, Laneff sensed a spear of quickly suppressed jealousy from the channel's Donor. Yuan turned from the channel and hugged both Jarmi and Laneff together, his field leaving her dizzy as he withdrew.
"I knew something had to go right today!" said Yuan.
The channel said, "So tell us what's gone wrong."
"First tell me, how's our prisoner?"
The channel went to a desk near an inner door and picked up a standard Sime Center file folder with a chart tacked inside it. She rattled off some numbers, then said, "I got his name out of him today. Odeah Polk. He's nearly recovered from the blow on the head, but he's in a constant state of stark terror that's wearing him out physically. I don't—like to go near him. He's convinced Simes are going to torture him."
Jarmi said, "That just shows how his people would torture any Sime they caught."
What happened to my world of law and order? Adventure novels were no fun to live in. Her arms still remembered the feel of that leather belt, the rough hands, the hard gun barrel.
Yuan hooked one knee over a corner of the desk and perched on a stack of chart folders, one of which, Laneff now noticed, had the black flashing that indicated a Farris's records. Mine. The channel had done her homework, and probably did know enough about her to assign Jarmi in transfer.
"Then we could release this Odeah Polk anytime now?" "Yes, Sosectu," answered the channel. "But why?" He eyed Laneff with that same dancing light of spontaneous enjoyment she'd seen during their escape from the Tecton choppers. "You know, Laneff, you really do look to a Gen's eyes just like Hajene Perrin—or just any Farris channel." "What's that got to do with anything?" asked Bianka. Yuan picked up Laneff’s file and idly flipped through it. "Bianka, Nen, we could all be in imminent danger now, because of what I did rescuing Laneff."
"How?" asked Nen, the Companion. "The Tecton thinks you were captive in that chopper. They never heard your radio signal. As far as they know, you and Laneff were flown into that Diet hideout which their choppers promptly blew sky high with one of those new missiles. I saw the Tecton tapes on the news. Tha| cave must have been a munitions dump to have gone up like that. Nobody survived. You're both officially dead."
Bianka said, "You could let yourself be found wandering dazed in those hills, survivor by a miracle."
"I don't have any explanation for why I swept Laneff into the Diet chopper instead of away into the crowd, letting the Tecton guards deal with the terrorists. Do you think even I could fool Mairis Farris in a face-to-face interrogation? Five minutes, and he'd know Yuan Sirat Tiernan is Sosectu ambrov Rior." His overcharged nager ached. "I could never come back here again for fear of revealing everything. I don't think I could live like that for long."
Bianka said, "You obviously can't live like this for long, either." Her nager cried out her sympathy for the Gen's need for a good transfer with a First Order channel.
"You're my best channel, Bianka."
She glanced at Nen, who assented to her unspoken question with a shrug while his nager throbbed denial. She said, "I'm willing to try a transfer, Yuan, but I don't think I can help you much. You're a First."
Yuan fixed Nen with a meditative stare. Then he shook his head. "No, Nen, I won't try to take her from you. Even if it would help me, I wouldn't. What is our way of Me worth if we discard it at a moment's discomfort?" Nen smiled, a relief radiating from him that weakened Laneff’s knees. "You are my Sosectu."
"Some Sosectu! I may have gotten us into more of a war with the Diet than we can handle."
"But there couldn't have been any survivors from that Diet hideout. As far as they know, you're as dead as the Tecton thinks you are."
He shook his head. "In an organization this size, there is no way to eliminate spies. We have to assume that they know what Sosectu ambrov Rior looks like. With Yuan Sirat Tiernan's face plastered all over the media these last few days, we have to assume the Diet now knows Yuan Sirat Tiernan is Sosectu ambrov Rior. Their spy or spies would know that the Sosectu is alive and well, and might also know that Laneff is here, alive and well. If they don't know it, they can deduce it from the fact that I am here. They would figure that we'll provide her with time and a place to work—and then use her results to breed Gens for our juncts to kill. And they have more bombs—and suicide volunteers."
"Yuan," said Bianka when he'd run down, "you're building a remote possibility that's been with us for years into an acute threat. Are you sure you're not suffering underdraw?"
"My governors work well enough," countered Yuan. "My selyn production will level off soon. I just feel rotten, that's all. Look, I know it's a remote chance, but I haven't built this organization by ignoring remote chances."