"Is it? Well, when you've changed over, maybe I'll be able to show you what I mean."

"I only wish that would happen soon!"

"It could be any time. Maybe tomorrow…"

"No. When I took his dinner in, your father checked. There's still no sign of changeover." He felt her anxiety, understood very well why she should be anxious—despite all her courage, she would face a very rough changeover at her age… if she survived it.

But then her mood shifted. "I'm just impatient," she said. "I want to be your wife, Rimon, and… you know what? Your father approves."

"He said so?" Rimon was surprised—not that he expected his father to make any objection to Kadi as the daughter of indentured servants—after all, the Morcots had worked that off years ago—but that he should express positive approval was unusual indeed.

"Yes. He actually said, 'I hope it works out.' That's an awful lot from your father, you know."

"I know!" But then, what other woman would have Rimon? His father would want grandchildren… oh, that was almost funny. He held Kadi close, trying to convince himself that once she changed over, she would be able to attract him as no other woman could. Despite four years with never a hint of sexual desire, he somehow believed that Kadi could do it. Well, she had saved his sanity– maybe his life—many times in the first months after his changeover. If she could handle him that way. when she was only a child, what would she be as a grown woman?

His thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance in the ambient nager. He stood up, startled, searching the west road against the setting sun. Kadi stood beside him. "What is it?"

"Wagon coming. Gens—"

"What's wrong, Rimon?"

"Don't know—Nerob there, I think—alone in the wagon. He's left his crew out there unsupervised? No, he's not alone!"

Rimon began to run for the big house, shouting for his father. Kadi followed him through the hallway, past Farris' office where the older man joined them, and out onto the front porch, down, and across the yard.

The wagon pulled to a stop, horses blowing. Nerob got down from the seat, breathless, incoherent. "Tuib Farris—I tried to stop them. Soon as I saw—I got him away —best I could—Tuib Farris, don't—"

"Quiet!" ordered Farris as he and Rimon bent over the bruised and bloody form on the flatbed.

Rimon said, "Shen and shid! Don't you know better than to move a Sime in changeover?"

Farris vaulted into the wagon, probing the injured Sime. "It's not as bad as it looks. He's close to breakout. Here, you men, get Findel into the infirmary. Then go down to the holding Pen and cut out that male with the deformed foot."

In moments, men were scurrying everywhere, preparing to welcome a new Sime into the world. As the confusion cleared, Farris turned to Nerob, who had caught his breath.

"Let's hear it!"

"We were loading the last wagon, getting ready to come in for the night. Findel was missing. I had the men spread out and search—he couldn't have gone far. We heard a commotion—some of the men had found Findel in the irrigation ditch, helpless like that. Couple of my crew are out-Territory. They started it, and the rest went along– trying to beat him to death. I lit into one of the ringleaders—Klauf, knocked him down, grabbed Findel and ran for it."

"So you moved a Sime in changeover." Farris' tone was menacing, but his nager betrayed only curiosity. Rimon looked to the Gen, who was sweating.

"I'm sorry, Tuib Farris, but I couldn't hold off a mob. I figured it was either psychospatial disorientation or being beaten to death. This way he may hate me, but at least he'll live."

Farris considered that. "Hmmm. Quick thinking—shrewd thinking, for a Gen. I don't have many Gens capable of making that kind of decision." He paused, glancing at Rimon. "Nerob, name your reward."

Taken completely aback, Nerob dropped his gaze. "Why —I—wouldn't know…"

"Is there, perhaps, some particular female you fancy?"

Nerob's head came up. His eyes turned to Kadi. Rimon heard through rising fury, "Tuib Farris, if you would, I have always wanted Kadi."

Rimon stepped forward, wanting to strike the Gen. "You brazen—!"

Farris stopped him with one warning tentacle. "Nerob, that was entirely inappropriate. Kadi is still a child."

"Then—if—it is ever appropriate," said the Gen, eyes downcast, visibly trembling at his own audacity, "if ever it can be, I want her as my only reward." Again he met her eyes for one quick flashing glance.

Kadi's skin crawled, and though her nager had little power, both Rimon and his father turned at her reaction.

Farris said, "I will keep this request of yours in mind, Nerob. You may go now and collect your crew. See to their injuries and bed them securely. Any more—trouble of any sort, and you may lose claim to any reward."

Rimon watched in disbelief as the Gen wheeled the wagon about and drove into the red sunset. Farris hadn't said no. He hadn't said yes, but he hadn't denied Nerob either. Rimon, sick, felt the cold dread gathering in Kadi. At that moment, he could have wrung his father's neck. If Kadi were Sime, fine, she would do well enough for Farris' peculiar son. But if she were Gen, Farris would casually hand her over to Nerob, use her for breeding—

It was only Kadi's discomfort that kept Rimon from going after his father in fury. Putting his arm around her, he said, "Don't worry, Kadi—you're going to be Sime, and you're going to be my wife. That's a promise!"

Chapter Two

BUT IF I'M DIFFERENT—WHAT AM I?

Two weeks later, Rimon was feeling elated because it was his turnover day. Normally, when a Sime reached the point at which half the selyn from his last transfer was used up and he began the slow descent toward need, he felt depressed. But when Rimon had wakened this morning with that hollow feeling, recognized it, and counted the days, he was delighted. A full two weeks. This time I'm going to make it!

Moreover, he was returning home with a sense of accomplishment, having taken a shipment of Farris Gens to a dealer in Scobla, and wound up with more money than his father had said was a fair price. He and Del Erick had spent a riotous night in Scobla, and were just slightly hung over today. They didn't talk much during the early morning, as they negotiated the empty wagon through the mountain passes. Around noon, Del, much more a participant in last night's activities than Rimon, adjourned to the bed of the wagon for a nap.

They were now on the Ancient Highway, the eyeway, which would take them straight home. Rimon hardly had to pay attention to his driving, as the broad roadbed scorched deep into the landscape by the mysterious Ancients ran straight as far as the eye could see—yes, eye-ways was the right name for them.

The wagon jolted and creaked as the smooth roadway gave way to a wooden bridge across a gully. Del sat up with a groan. "Hey!" he complained. "Warn me when you're gonna run off the road!"

"We're on it," replied Rimon, looking back. "Quit sitting on my package!"

"It's soft," said Del, patting the parcel he was leaning against. "What is it?"

"Cloth," said Rimon. "Beautiful soft material the color of Kadi's eyes. Don't you tell her, though. It's a surprise, for her wedding dress."

Del patted the package. "All that for one girl's dress? There must be enough here to dress every woman on the Farm."

"Well, how should I know how much it takes for a lady's dress? Better too much than too little."

"Shendi, Rimon! You don't have to get so touchy about a little teasing!" Del's nager flashed slight pain and strong annoyance at him.

"Huh? I'm not touchy. What's the matter with you?"

"You're doing it again! Shen and shid—that hurts!"

Aware now of Del's actual pain, Rimon noticed that he had been ignoring a vibration of his own fields that was intensely irritating to the other Sime. As he strained to stop the vibrations, they only grew stronger. Fighting off panic, his body refusing to obey him, he let go of the physical world, sensing only through his Sime perceptions, and at last found control of his oscillating fields– or was it that the attack was waning on its own?