First Channel

"Is that the one?" someone asked. "Did you really kill five Freehand Raiders?"

"Nah—only three," said someone else. "Besides, how do we know this is the one? I heard it was a female."

"A female Gen? Killed three Simes?"

"Seven, I heard—sucked their blood right out!"

A little boy started to poke a stick at the Gen, when his mother pulled him back sharply. "Right you are, madame," said the manager of the display, seizing the opportunity to gather a crowd. "Keep the children back, and stay away from him yourself. We're not sure how many Simes he has killed—at least three, maybe eight or ten! He was captured last night in a life-or-death struggle. Step inside and see it re-enacted—Gen against Sime! Can you believe it? Is it real? You won't believe your senses until you zlin it for yourself—the most realistic representation ever of a Real Live Event! Step right this way—"

As the gullible ones filed into the tent, Rimon turned to Kadi and said, "I didn't know you'd grown a beard!"

"It's not fu

"Maybe what we ought to do to make up the tax money is put you on display for real. I could set up a tent, and—" She hit him in the shoulder, eliciting more curious stares, and still more as she dragged him away from the display.

They located the directory for Gen sales displays. Not all the spaces were filled in; the largest of all was empty, reserved, Rimon knew, for Farris stock. But they were in luck: the second largest was filled in with the name Varnst, Syrus Farris' largest and most successful competition.

Undoubtedly, they would have the best of their pre-Gen children here already—stock one traded before the wild bidding sessions of the last week of the Fair. If Varnst had Henry Steers, Jr., unestablished, chances were he'd be there.

–and Rimon could ask the keeper if they'd brought along all children of establishment age. If they had, Rimon would be saved a trip to the other side of the Territory.

He and Kadi were striding along a row between the tents when they came to another major crossway, where the crowd was pushed back on either side to let some wagons pass. As he looked to see the length of the line of passing wagons, Rimon froze. Despite the accumulation of trail dust, he saw these wagons were in good repair and recently painted in bold black and white: the Farris. colors. Kadi's field registered shock, and she stepped closer to Rimon. He could see no way to get around the oncoming line. They'd just have to wait it out.

As they waited, Rimon's arm about Kadi's waist, he slowly became aware of something—someone—off to his left. Just behind the first row of spectators stood Syrus Farris, watching his men as they brought in the wagons. Farris would tolerate no rudeness to the public, no cruelty to the Gens; Rimon had seen his father do this before, riding ahead to make arrangements, then mingling with the crowd to see how the Simes he hired did their job when they thought themselves unobserved.

Syrus Farris might be observing his crew, but Rimon was observing Syrus Farris. How good his father looked! This "was a bad year; Rimon and Kadi looked more prosperous than many people at the Fair because of Kadi's skill with a needle, but while their clothes might be skillfully made, Syrus. Farris' were of the finest materials, and styled in a slightly different way that Rimon realized must have come into fashion since he'd left the center of civilization. The comfortable boots Rimon and Kadi wore had been excellently made by the shoemaker at Fort Freedom—but they were not of that exquisite imported leather that would hold a shine even through the dusty ride Farris had just negotiated, and come up gleaming with the flick of a cloth.

Afraid to zlin, Rimon watched his father, feeling for the first time slightly shabby, definitely not up to what his father would have expected. But then he also saw the sprinkle of white hairs through his father's thick black thatch—surely that had not been there two years ago? Or all those lines around his eyes? Come to think of it, why was Farris here early? He looked prosperous enough—but then he always took pains to look prosperous. The wagons passing by were loaded with unestablished children and older Gens—he was selling off breeding stock! Things were not going well on the Farris Genfarm, no matter what face Syrus Farris showed the world.

On one of the Farris Genfarms, came the disquieting thought. He would have to encounter his father with a freshly made deed to a Genfarm in his pocket. But perhaps he could avoid it. Did his father know he was here? Would he want to know?

Tentatively, Rimon dared to zlin his father. Even from a distance, over the fields of others, he could easily sense that distinctive nager. There had always been a barrier that kept him from reading his father; now it was gone. No—my sensitivity has increased. As he reached the core of Syrus Farris' being, he saw something else, something that stu

"Then Zeth will—" she whispered.

"He'll have it, tool And be able to learn not to kill! Jord and Willa—Kadi, it does run in families!"

Rimon's eyes were still on Syrus Farris. The older man turned slightly toward where Rimon and Kadi stood, frowning. Rimon froze, waiting to see if his father would look at him; he was certain his father had zli

The last wagon passed, and the crowd began to move. Rimon held Kadi right there, waiting. I'll let Father make the decision. He can walk away, or he can turn and recognize us.

Slowly, as if fighting a force he could not resist, Farris turned. Father and son faced one another over a distance of only a few paces. "Rimon," he said softly. Then, flatly, "I see you've kept that Gen."

"Kadi is my wife, Father," said Rimon. "I told you that."

Farris ignored that, openly zli

"It's because I don't kill," said Rimon. "I didn't kill Kadi, as you see—and I've learned to draw from other Gens without killing."

Farris brushed that aside. "I heard you were homesteading at the border. Have you been successful?"

"I just got the deed to my land this morning."

His father nodded, holding back a faint surge of pride. "That is good. What will you do now?"

"Farm. We've had some success marketing trin, and now we're trying mushrooms. In a few years, you may find our produce on your table, Father."

"Perhaps," Farris said bleakly. "Did the drought hit badly in your area?" A safe topic, the weather.

"It's been difficult, but we can survive one bad year."

The twinge of irritation building in Farris suddenly broke free. "We! You and this Gen?"

"Yes," replied Rimon. "Kadi and I—and our son."

Farris stared at his son, going so pale Rimon feared he would faint. But he was back in control immediately. "You have a son, Rimon?"

"Kadi and I have a son."

"The Gen is alive," said Farris, as if that were enough proof that Rimon was lying. So Rimon had been right– Farris wives died in childbirth.

Kadi spoke softly, "You're welcome any time you wish to visit your grandson, N'vet Farris."

At being addressed by the term of respect between equals, Farris looked directly at Kadi for the first time. But he spoke to Rimon. "She still has you in her power."