Lichtenberg, Jacqueline.

Sime Gen.

House of Zeor.

CHAPTER ONE.

Assignment.

HUGH VALLEROY PACED BACK AND FORTH, HEEDLESS OF the muddy water he was splashing onto the boots of the District Director of Federal Police.

The director, Stacy Hawkins, huddled under a meager ledge watching his best field operative quietly going to pieces. The two men had been waiting in the icy October night's rain for more than half an hour. Hawkins was well aware that New Washington would have his head if this mission didn't succeed. That success depended on Hugh Valleroy's unflinching nerve.

Beyond the distant riverbank, a horse nickered. The flooding waters tore savagely at the tiny island on which they waited. Another horse raised an answering cry. Valleroy stopped in his tracks, head whipping toward the sound... on the Sime Territory side of the river.

"Don't worry," said Hawkins. "The only way onto this island is through the Ancient tunnel. Only Klyd knows the entrance point on their side."

Valleroy resumed pacing. Tonight he'd travel the other branch of that tunnel... into Sime Territory... to search for Aisha. No, he corrected the thought, to find her.

"Hugh, will you stop that infernal splashing!"

Valleroy brought his boots together and ceased walking. "Yes, sir."

Thirty seconds of watching Valleroy's spare frame poised as if straining for release made Hawkins snap, "Oh, go run around if it makes you feel better! But don't splash me!"

Valleroy sloshed restlessly about the small clearing, craning his neck as if he could penetrate the midnight darkness and spot the approaching Sime. "Stacy, he's not coming."

"He'll come. He's dependable as sunrise."

"He'd have to be crazy to come out in weather like this!"

"Weather doesn't bother Simes. You, of all people, should know that."

Valleroy rounded on his boss, voice dangerously low. "What do you mean by a crack like that?"

"Shove it, Mr. Valleroy. You don't talk to me in that tone."

Valleroy backed off. Hawkins had been his friend for years. But the man was still his superior officer, and Valleroy was only a field operative on assignment. "Sir. Would you mind explaining your remark?"

Realizing that Valleroy was under an inhuman strain, Hawkins spoke gently. "I was only referring to the fact that you've been our best interrogator ever since you came to work for us. You can't know a language without knowing the people who use it."

Valleroy found his sudden anger dissipated. Hawkins had avoided mentioning it as if he hadn't even thought it -what everybody else on the post called him-Sime-lover. His voice hardly more than a husky whisper, Valleroy said, "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Who else is there to send? But just think what my post will be without you!"

"I'll be back. And with Aisha."

"I know that. But either way, I lose. I don't intend to take that reward money and come back to work for a living, do you?"

Valleroy didn't answer. Full retirement pension and twelve acres of land was a big enough reward... it was all he'd ever dreamed of having. And now he'd have it while he was young enough to enjoy it. It didn't really matter if he didn't come back... because if he didn't succeed, he wouldn't want the reward. There would be no reason to live... without Aisha.

"Look," said Hawkins, "I know how frightened you must be. But Simes are only human mutants. If you don't look at their arms, you can't tell the difference, can you?"

Absently, Valleroy answered the rhetorical question, "No."

"If Simes didn't have this instinct that drives them to the kill, there would be no reason at all to fear them, would there?"

"Of course not. But all Simes are subject to the need-cycle. And when they take selyn from a Gen, -the Gen dies. I've never heard of anybody choosing to commit suicide that way."

"Neither have I. But the channels are different. When they take from a Gen, he doesn't die."

"So you've been telling me."

"Klyd is a channel. His people don't kill. So there's no reason to fear them."

"What makes you think I'm afraid?"

"I know how it was when I first met Klyd. He doesn't look any different from an ordinary Sime." Valleroy snapped, "I'm not scared, I tell you!"

"You don't have to shout. Your fear is like a blazing beacon. It'll bring him right to us."

"Oh. hell!"

"You can't fool a Sime, you know. Your emotions are an open book to them."

"You think I don't know that!" "I know very well you know it."

Valleroy stalked toward the other man. "Go ahead. Say it. Say it! Sime-lover! Why are you so afraid to say it to my face? Everybody says it behind my back. You think I don't know?"

"Hugh, what is the matter with you? You know perfectly well you'd have to be convicted of sedition if there were any truth to what people say. If it were true, you wouldn't be so frightened that you have to charge around in the mud."

Valleroy's hand went to the starred-cross that he'd hung around his neck under his shirt. He hadn't worn it since he'd been promoted to a desk job. If Hawkins knew he had it-if Hawkins knew what it was-no court in Gen Territory would acquit him. His hand was trembling. He forced it behind his back and splashed away.

He could admit it to himself. He was frightened. But not the way most people would be. He honestly didn't know if he could allow a Sime to touch him. He only knew that all the events of his life had been leading up to this test. And now he wasn't sure he could pass it. But he had to find out.

"This is a volunteer mission," said Hawkins. "If you want to back out, there'll be no black mark on your service record."

"I'm no coward, if that's what you mean." Over the roaring of the flooding river, a soft voice spoke disconcertingly near. "Your man is correct, Stacy.

A coward is one who cannot face that which he fears. This man fears prodigiously, but stands firm in spite of it."

"Klyd?" called Hawkins stepping away from the overhand.

"Were it not indeed I, it is doubtful if either of you would still live. You trespass on Sime Territory."

"That's debatable," answered Hawkins. "But when you hear why I set up this meeting, you'll forgive us."

"It is not my place to blame or forgive," said the voice. "Tell your tale, but do it swiftly. I pause in haste."

"What's the matter with you? Why so touchy?"