Willa's field was also filled with sadness, but she remained where she was. Rimon put his hands over hers for a moment, murmuring, "Good girl. You're doing just fine. Stay there, Willa. There's more to come."

It came almost immediately, as Carlana's body heaved with the last efforts to expel the dead fetus. The pains were not so sharp now, but they came more frequently. Again Carlana heaved, giving an open-throated, inarticulate moan. "Good, Carlana, once more should do it."

She nodded, drawing a deep breath, and, working with the next contraction, forced the dead tissue from her body. Rimon returned to the cellular level to control the wild loss of blood and selyn. As he had done with Risko, he used his own field as a tourniquet. It was easier now; his system no longer threatened to go into spasms as it had then.

Del let out one trembling breath, and Rimon knew he understood how close Carlana had come to death. Their eyes met, and Del, still in deep rapport with his wife, let go of one of her hands to reach over and grip Rimon's shoulder near Willa's fingers. Silently, he mouthed, "Thank you, Rimon." Rimon smiled weakly.

"Del, I'll bring one of the Gens. You finish this up."

As Rimon started to move, Del reached for the towels he'd brought and turned back the blanket. At the sudden sight of blood, Willa screamed.

Fear knifed through the girl's nager, throwing all three Simes into killmode.

Carlana, verging on attrition, made a reflexive lunge in Willa's direction, only her weakened condition preventing her from connecting. Willa fled in terror, and Rimon, his fields a throbbing tangle of agony, would have attacked her, but he was compelled by instinct to stand and fight off the other two Simes seeking the same prey.

The tiny instant it took for him to turn back and face off against Del and Carlana was enough to prompt deja vu. This had happened before; but he had stopped it before, too. Yes—become Gen for them…

Carlana collapsed back onto the pillows. Del gasped, then stared in astonishment "Shen, Rimon, you did it again!"

But he couldn't hold it. The wobble in his fields was back, becoming a mad fluctuation. He was thrown into Carlana's desperate need, then back into that weird state of feeling like a Gen. Carlana moaned, and Del cringed. "Stop it!" he gasped. "Rimon, stop it! Kadi! Kadi!"

As Kadi tore the door open, Willa ran into her arms. Kadi thrust the girl behind her and came right up to Rimon. Her presence seemed to flicker from the physical to the nageric as the fluctuations inside him grew wilder—but he sensed no Gen fear now, only concern, covered with—

No! No, there was fear. Deep under the surface calm. Rimon could sense the core of fear, bright and hard and beckoning. He had no will to resist. It would slake the pain, the constant torment that had been nagging at him for months.

He stalked the retreating source of selyn, hyperconscious, wild with need and ready to kill. It backed away from him, toward the other source of selyn—but that first one had become dull beside the one he sought.

He could feel the swirling emotions in the Gen. He was zlinning deeper than ever before, through the calm to the barely controlled panic underneath. He recognized the protectiveness now—not of him, but of the second life within the primary field.

Something made him want to stop and think at that. Second life? But just then another Sime in need moved toward him. He turned his head, feeling a growl rise in his throat, warning off the threat to his prey. Then he reached toward the source of selyn, tentacles extending—to find the calm back in the field.

Conflicting tensions tore him—he wanted to take that throbbing field, pulsing in rhythm with his own, so clearly marked as his—and at the same time he wanted to let his need be quelled by the promise of sweet fulfillment. As he hesitated, he felt hope flare in that welcoming field—hope, relief—

He dropped to duoconsciousness and saw Kadi before him, calm on the surface, murmuring, "Come on, Rimon—you can do it!" She was controlling him again!

"Hypocrite!" he spat, zlinning through that shell of calm to the panic beneath, deliciously roused by his word. He took another menacing step toward her, deliberately toying with her as prey to be terrified before the kill.

The inviting field before him froze, shifted, and rang with denial. She would refuse him. The threat of shen lanced through his hypertense nerves, and with a snarl of pure Sime anger he lunged for her, driven to strip away her selyn against the potent pain/pleasure of her resistance. The best kill ever!

Willa sprang between them, pushing at Rimon, shouting, "No, Rimon!" The words were slurred, but intelligible. "No—no!"

With a negligent flick of one hand he thrust her aside, focusing wholly on Kadi. But Willa bounced back between them, insisting, "No! No! No!"

His hands came to her forearms to thrust her away, but Willa's automatic response was to grasp his arms in return, her fingers right over his lateral transport nerves but grasping hard, trying to push him back. With that searing pain, Rimon gave one scream and fell into blackness.

He came to in that same state of paralysis he had been in the first time Kadi had given him transfer. He felt her hands moving gently over his tentacle sheaths, assessing the damage and at the same time easing his pain. As he tried to move, his awareness spread to Willa, kneeling beside Kadi in the same kind of concern, to Del, his concern obscured by his need and worry over Carlana, watching them, zlinning to be sure Rimon was alive, then edging purposefully past them.

Then Kadi's fingers pressed gently on Rimon's lateral extensor nerves. The delicate tentacles emerged on a wave of pain, releasing Rimon's paralysis as he sat bolt upright, crying out.

Relief flooded Kadi's field when he moved. Even though he had to clutch at his arms, his teeth grinding together to keep from moaning, it penetrated his misery that she had been afraid he was dead.

Kadi held out her hands to him, now nothing but sincerity in her field. "Take transfer, Rimon, if you must—"

"No!" he gasped. "No. The baby—" He doubled over again, shivering uncontrollably.

She recognized the problem. "Let me balance your fields."

"Yesss," he agreed, but couldn't pull his arms apart to reach for her.

As Kadi tried to take his hands, he realized why he dared not touch her. "No," he said raggedly. "Can't do it, Kadi. Want you too much."

"Let me give you transfer, then," she said. She had given up the protectiveness of the child within her in her fear for Rimon's life and sanity. She was making him need her, and he wanted to take her so badly.

He was drifting from duoconsciousness to hyperconsciousness and back. "No control," he gasped, staggering to his feet to escape Kadi. "Dying for you." He sank to his knees, feeling the fluctuations growing stronger, moving toward convulsions.

Kadi moved after him, not understanding. "Then take me, Rimon. I can't let you die."

"Kadi—no—the baby—"

Willa suddenly came to Rimon's rescue, pulling Kadi's hands away from Rimon's. "Willa," she announced, holding out her hands to him. And he felt in her field a reflection of Kadi's need to give.

But Kadi's field, her yearning, outshone Willa's, drawing him against all the control he could muster. He was fixed on her. "Kadi, stop—please. Please." Don't do this to me, Kadi!

But it was his choice. Need compelled him, yet if he could just let Kadi balance his fields, he could control the need.

No—he wouldn't be able to resist. He felt his tentacles reaching toward Kadi, even as he shook his head in denial. Kadi quelled her yearning to respond, and somehow, Rimon was able to drag his attention away from her, toward Willa. As he turned to the girl, he felt one momentary pang of jealousy from Kadi—and then she was so firm in her conviction that he could almost read her thought. Not what we want. What is right.