As Rimon moved, she said, "Don't let Jon go through town alone. There's time. That was only the first contraction strong enough to wake me up."

"Rest now," he said, kissing her forehead. "You'll require your strength later."

As Kadi slept, Rimon worried. Her field was as low now as it had ever been after transfer, and the worst drain was yet to come. He knew what could happen; he had seen it on the Genfarm. Occasionally a female Gen had symptoms like Kadi's, entered labor with a low-field, and was totally drained before she could expel the child. Usually they lost both mother and child.

Once in a while, after the mother was dead, they had cut a living child from her body. Syrus Farris had always taken special care of such infants, saying they were likely to be Sime, but Rimon could remember only one that lived more than a few days in the nursery—and she had been only two years old when Rimon and Kadi left. But his father's beliefs came not from a single instance, but from generations of experience passed from father to son.

To me, thought Rimon. And what good is all the Farris wisdom now? He sat beside Kadi, trying to encourage her body to produce more selyn, and wondering where her strength came from when her field responded—again.

It was more than half an hour before a second contraction brought Kadi awake again. She smiled at Rimon when it ended, and took his hands. "It won't be long now," she said, and he realized she didn't know how much time had passed.

He forced a reassuring smile. "We'll soon get to meet our son," he agreed. "Do you feel strong enough to let us get you ready?"

Jon soon returned with the Veritts. Mrs. Veritt inspected Rimon's preparations and said, "Good job. I've never met a man before who knew anything about midwifery."

In Rimon's world, no man would leave his wife alone in labor—yet it was obvious Mrs. Veritt expected to take over now, shooing the men outside.

"I must stay beside Kadi to support her field," he explained. "Zlin her, Mrs. Veritt. She's very weak."

The older woman did so, just as another contraction hit Kadi. Mrs. Veritt gasped, almost doubling over, gripping the bedframe to support herself. When it was over, her eyes focused on Rimon. "I have—helped a Gen give birth before, Rimon. I was the oldest girl in our family, so I had to help the midwife when my brothers and sisters were born. But that was before—"

"Before you could sense fields," said Rimon. "You'll find Gen pain affects you much more than Sime pain, even low as Kadi's field is. Willa, you help me. Jon—" He looked around, and had to zlin past the fields around him to find the boy. "Why didn't he come in?" He went to the open door. "Jon, come in and help Mrs. Veritt."

"Help deliver a baby?" he asked in shock.

Jord said, "You know how to shield a Sime against pain. Mother can't do this alone."

Jon entered the house, but still hung back from the bed.

"Come on," said Willa. "You stand over here."

Jon remained where he was. The battle between Willa and Jon for pecking order had amused Rimon up to now; today it only annoyed him.

"Please, Jon," Kadi said softly, "help Mrs. Veritt. I can't."

Still the boy hesitated, a mass of conflicting emotions, his age and upbringing making him vulnerable to embarrassment.

Jord said, "You think Rimon and Kadi are going to feed and clothe you so you can refuse to help when they ask you? You weren't raised to be a freeloader, Jon."

At that, Jon squared his shoulders and pulled his emotions under control. He looked over at Abel. "You think it's right, Mr. Veritt?"

"Yes, Jon, it's right. You're the only one who can do it."

Jon went over to stand beside Mrs. Veritt. "I'll do my best."

The day dragged on. Kadi drifted in and out of consciousness, only coming really awake when the contractions hit. By midafternoon they were still fifteen minutes apart, and Kadi's field was faltering. Her selyn production had lagged behind the baby's consumption for months; now, for the first time, production itself was slowing from its mad rate.

Willa shielded Rimon well, at the same time gently wiping Kadi's face after each contraction, making her as comfortable as possible. But as Kadi's complexion turned ashen, concern grew in Willa, echoing Rimon's.

They had carefully prepared Willa, explaining that yes, it hurt to have a baby, but the pain was not beyond endurance and well worth the joy of having a child. Nonetheless, even Willa could see there was something wrong.

Trying to zlin Kadi's dilation, Rimon found himself constantly caught up in her pain—and now came the sharpest yet as she clutched the sheet, gritting her teeth, and then Rimon felt the momentary relief as her water broke.

"That's a good sign!" said Mrs. Veritt. "Won't be long now."

Gasping for breath, Kadi said wryly, "I'll be glad of that."

Willa cleaned up the mess, and Rimon was astonished to see Mrs. Veritt feel for the baby with her hands. Fearing infection, he started to tell her to check by zlinning when she said, "Good. He's in position. Now really work with the contractions, Kadi."

Kadi was wide awake as the contractions came more quickly, but each time she fell back afterward, gasping for breath. Rimon could see her field fading, and knew that their child would not be born in time. In healing mode, he conjured the specter of need in himself to encourage Kadi's cells to produce more, and ever more selyn.

But their son—his son—drew selyn inexorably through her nerves, outlining her vitality in a sparkling glow. The periphery faded; all was drawn to the center, the connections lost, as if parts of Kadi were dying, dying of attrition—

"No!" cried Rimon, not realizing he'd shouted aloud, but sensing Jord there, zlinning helplessly.

Rimon let go of all awareness beyond himself and Kadi and the small life struggling to glean enough selyn to live.

He'll kill her. No! No, my son will not begin his life by killing!

Frantic, Rimon seized Kadi's limp arms, falling directly into transfer position, searching for any spark of life in her. Peripherally, he felt Jord wrench himself out of intil as Willa's support suddenly shifted to Jord for a moment, then returned, steady, worried but unexcited. Jon was low-field, thank goodness, for his shivering anxiety was a growing irritant to the other Simes. But all of Rimon's attention was on a hard, bright core at the center of Kadi's otherwise black, field.

Suddenly, Rimon was elsewhere—careering trees blurred by, the musty smell of old leaves somehow penetrating him as Zeth died under his tentacles, his system forced to give up selyn. For a moment, Rimon became Zeth, feeling selyn drawn from him.

He jolted to present reality, dizzy, whirling downward toward bottomless dark, pouring forth his life in willing catharsis. The flow was so good that Rimon began to force selyn outwards from his system, faster and faster as within him a chronic, nagging ache dissolved, and for the first time in months he felt free of need. The more selyn he forced away from himself, the better he felt. He kept going even when resistance rose against it—kept forcing and forcing selyn outwards—

PAIN!

He was dashed down to hypoconsciousness, hearing Mrs. Veritt saying, "Once more—push once more, Kadi!"

While at the same time, Jord yelled, "Stop it, Ri—"

As Kadi's pain relented, Rimon was aware of the searing ache along his arms where Kadi's fingers had bitten into his flesh just above the sensitive nodes. He was also aware of a distinct change in the ambient nager, but couldn't place it.

Kadi looked up at him with huge blue eyes, gasping, but conscious.

"You're alive!" he said.

Before she could speak, another contraction overtook her. "Push, Kadi!" said Mrs. Veritt. "Here comes the head."