Special Note:

What is called "Undertow Chapter 5" was written over two years ago, while the rest of the story was only outlined. It can almost stand on its own as a short piece, although the interactions among the students and a number of subplots will be much richer if the first four chapters were read first. This chapter serves a number of basic purposes in the book: to illustrate (albeit with a bit of exaggeration) the difference between Tigues and Farrises; to show how both Deah and Arat have started to throw themselves into the spirit of dares in order to compensate for how badly they are both doing in classes; and to provide a bit of comic relief before the story starts to turn really heavy.

While Undertow was written with every attempt to obey the S~G universe canon, this chapter apparently contains numerous non-canonical items. When JL read it two years ago, she said something along the lines of "this will have to be posted with a warning: this story may prove hazardous to your understanding of S~G". Unfortunately, she neglected to specify exactly what was non-canonical about it.

The events of this chapter take place around 7 weeks after Deah, Arat and Betta's arrival at the Othwol Institute.

        The student Assemblies continued to be held. The dares continued to be dared. And of course, lectures continued to be lectured.
        One day, during a stunningly boring guest-lecture on New Washington Territory military history, somebody dared Arat to take the visiting professor's donation in such a way as to scare him absolutely silly - without anybody ever finding out.
        It seemed that Professor Tengstun did not want to donate because of his political beliefs, and he and his wife had been admitted into Sime Territory high-field on a special permit. However, their high fields had caused some problems, and now the professor had been told that he must either donate or leave Sime Territory immediately.
        A difficult decision had been made to send Mrs. Tengstun home while Mr. Tengstun donated and continued on with his lecture tour alone. The donation was to happen that very night. It would be tricky, but the instigators of the prank swore they could arrange for Arat to be the one to do it.
        Arat pondered the dare for a moment, then excused himself and stood up and asked the professor a question about Gen Territory military history. Upon receiving his answer, he sat down, thought about it for a moment longer, and then accepted the dare.
        It was the first time Arat had ever accepted a dare without having to be talked into it.

        ----

        Deah, Betta, Sorel, Mepig, and Jeniard piled into one of the Sime Center's newly completed observation rooms and locked it. A few minutes later Arat entered the larger demo chamber, leading the unfortunate Mr. Tengstun. It was clear he had already begun preparing the fellow.
        "How are you doing, still ready to do this?" Arat asked him kindly. It gave Deah chills to see Arat pretending to be nice. She wondered how long he could sustain it.
        "It would help if you didn't keep asking me that!" snapped the professor.
        Arat jumped. He waved his tentacles in what was supposed to be a soothing manner. "Okay, no problem. Just stay calm." The gesture left no questions unanswered with regards to tentacles, not at that range, not in that light. Mr. Tengstun looked green. Deah would have thought the guy would have seen plenty of tentacles in his travels. Well, if anybody could induce instant phobia in a person, it was Arat.
        "Could you please have a seat here?" Arat indicated the transfer lounge. "Oh... wait a minute, maybe not yet. How about over here?" He indicated a chair near a table. Mr. Tengstun sat down warily.
        "I just have to check your file and fill out a few forms, and then we'll do it, okay?"
        "Yeah. Fine." Mr. Tengstun's voice was as clipped and tense as his nager.
        Arat set to work. But a moment later, when Mr. Tengstun shifted slightly, he nearly jumped out of his skin. This made Tengstun jump twice as high.
        "Sorry," said Arat. "Try not to be so nervous okay?"
        Of course the quickest way to turn someone nervous was to be nervous yourself -- and high-strung Arat did nervous well.
        "Why are you so jumpy?" snapped the professor at last, after the fifth time he'd jumped when Arat had jumped at some tiny movement of his. "What's wrong with you people!"
        Arat shot him a scandalized look. "Would you keep it down! You'll disturb the people in the other rooms." (The walls were, of course, completely soundproofed.)
        "Can we just get this over with!"
        "Well if that's what you really want, but I didn't think it would be a good idea to rush things seeing as how you're so jumpy today."
        "I'm not jumpy!"
        Tengstun jumped a foot as Arat flicked tentacles at him.
        "What was that for!"
        "Just testing your reflexes," said Arat. "They seem to be fine." He made an additional note, then closed the folder.
        "Now. Do you prefer a slow, endlessly lingering type of donation or the quick type that's like ripping a bandage off?"
        Tengstun winced. "That can't be part of the standard Tecton pre-donation speech!"
        "No, it isn't. But actually, the very rapid technique is rather like ripping off a bandage; the pai - er, process is all over with relatively quickly." He winked at the Gen. "I prefer the lingering one myself."
        "I thought it was supposed to be completely painless no matter how you did it?" said Tengstun uneasily.
        Arat's eyes widened. "Oh of course! It's always, completely, one hundred percent painless. Anybody who's done it, who says otherwise, is really not telling the whole truth."
        Arat rose and went around to help the professor out of his chair. "Now let's go over to the transfer lounge and begin -"
        Mr. Tengstun leaped up a little too quickly, avoiding Arat's touch. "Wait a minute... what was the last part you just said? What is that supposed to mean, anybody who's done it and says it's painful isn't telling the whole truth?"
        "Steady there, Mr. Tengstun. Quick motions around Simes in need have been known to trigger killmode attacks."
        The professor's eyes locked onto Arat's forearms. "Isn't there supposed to be a Donor working with you when you're around the donors?"
        "You know," admitted Arat, "actually there is. But my Donor is a very busy man. He can't watch me every moment. I suppose he would have been here if I'd taken the time to inform him of the occasion... but I find donation by one Gen to one Sime, with no interference from outside, to be much more... uninhibited. Don't you?"
        "Unin - ! Are you in need or not?"
        "Technically, I suppose I am," said Arat, considering his own arms. "But a general class donor like yourself could no more satisfy me than a baby chick could satisfy a ravenous bear. The temptation is less physical than psychological."
        "The tempt - !"
        "Sshhh," said Arat, "Please sit down. Let me explain." Mr. Tengstun sat down very cautiously on the only thing available - the transfer lounge. Arat kept his distance, which was all of about three feet. "You see, channels are used to working while in need. It's actually rather common, when you think about it; statistically speaking, at any given time, one out of every four channels will be within a week of hard need. As a Gen you might think that's too risky, but practically speaking, working all the channels every minute of every day is the only way to support the exploding population of renSimes."
        "This is supposed to be reassuring? What about my safety?"
        Arat spread his hands and tentacles. "I can be completely and one hundred percent honest with you. I have never killed a Gen -" he paused to chose his words more carefully -- " a General class donor yet. I've certainly never had any intentions of killing anybody. Now, if you can just do your part by refraining from any more startled outbursts -"
        "What are you doing!" cried Tengstun.
        Arat jerked back from him as if scalded. "What did I say about outbursts?"
        "But you were just going to grab me right then and there, without any warning?"
        "Well I thought that's what you wanted. The quick bandage job."
        "I never answered that question!"
        "But you said you just wanted to get it over with."
        "I did, but - !" Mr. Tengstun's voice rose into a shriek as Arat darted forward under augmentation and snatched him into transfer position. In a moment, it was done. Mr. Tengstun's field had been substantially lowered.

        Deah and the other students nearly collapsed in relief from suspense. All Deah could think was, thank God it's over. She felt so sorry for that poor Gen. Even the worst lecturer in the world didn't deserve that kind of treatment.
        But nobody besides Deah seemed particularly impressed. "That sure wasn't up to Arat's usual standards," said Betta. "He could have scared him a lot more than that."
        "You don't think that was good enough?" asked Deah, incredulous. "The guy practically pissed his pants when Arat jumped him. He'll probably be donation-shy the rest of his life."
        "Yeah, but, he should have pissed his pants for real. He should have been crawling on the floor begging to have his life spared. His terrified screams should have tested the limits of the sound insulation. He - "
        "Arat has fulfilled the first term of the dare," said Jeniard in stout defense of his roommate. "And I for one think he did a masterful job."
        "Oh Jeniard, you suck-up," groaned Betta. "Save it for him! We are not interested."
        "Nonetheless -"
        "Anyway," pointed out Sorel, "If I were you I'd be less triumphant about part 1 and more worried about part 2. I think Arat just broke his personal endurance record for being nice to somebody. There won't be anything left for the crucial calming-the-guy-down half of the dare."
        "You hope," said Betta. "Since your money rests on him losing."
        Jeniard stared at Betta in amazement. "You and Sorel made a private wager? And you're rooting for us to win?"
        Betta offered the similarly surprised Deah a sheepish little chuckle: "Heh heh heh?"
        "Wait a minute!" said Mepig excitedly. "Look!"

        Arat had released the Gen. Mr. Tengstun sat up, nager still tingling with echoes of emotion. "You mean that's it? That was all?"
        "Oh no," said Arat. "That was just for practice."
        "What!"
        "No!" gasped Deah. The rest of them glued themselves to the glass.
        Mr. Tengstun started to struggle off the transfer bench, but Arat placed one hand on his chest and augmented to shove him firmly back down.
        "Don't go anywhere. I'm not done with you yet."
        "But - why was that just for practice? Why couldn't you have just done it right then?"
        Arat frowned. "Well, there's no reason I couldn't have... except you said you didn't want the quick bandage technique anymore, you wanted the endless lingering technique. So now I have to work you up to the real thing gradually."
        "I can't watch this," said Deah. "It's too cruel!"
        Arat took Mr. Tengstun's sticky hands in his. "Mr. Tengstun. I can feel your fear. Now I want to assure you, there's nothing, absolutely nothing, to be afraid of. I'm getting back into transfer position now. Very slowly, very gradually... no sudden moves, right?" Tentacles crept silently over fingers, over each other, like worms in their seeking, but like snakes in their strength. A gut-clenched terror hummed increasingly in Mr. Tengstun's nager.
        Deah refused to zlin. And she clenched shut her eyes, until a gasp from Mr. Tengstun caused them to fly open again helplessly. Arat's hands and tentacles had locked into the transfer position on the Gen's arms. Evidently rather suddenly, from the way Mr. Tengstun's eyes were bulging.
        "Don't panic!" Arat sounded a little more cross than he had before. "Everything is fully under control. And nothing is anywhere near happening yet... see? I don't even have lateral contact."
        Of course the man looked down. That meant he had to see the pink tips of the laterals lick out like tongues, snake-quick. Almost quick enough to fool the eye, then gone. He jerked. Arat rode him out, the annoyed expression replaced temporarily by a rather deranged little smile. He appeared to be anticipating having a good deal of fun with this poor Gen.
        It occurred to Deah to worry at this point. Arat was, after all, junct. His nager was still completely unrevealing, but that was hardly a reassurance under the circumstances.
        "Are you sure his control is good enough for this?"
        "Yes," said Jeniard, at the same time as Mepig said, "Who knows?" They glared at each other. "Yes!" repeated Jeniard. Mepig grinned broadly at him. "You always say 'yes' to Arat. That's why you have such a cushy place in that cold black heart of his."
        Deah clutched her hair with knotted tentacles and stared through the glass again.
        Arat had loosened his grip on Mr. Tengstun's arms. He spoke to him in a soothing voice, rather like one might use to calm a more legitimately frightened charge. Mr. Tengstun did appear to calm down somewhat. Deah allowed herself to hope that it might be over soon - this time for real.
        Then it occurred to her that Arat might not stop until all four of these bloodthirsty followers of theirs were satisfied he'd gone far enough. After all, if they could zlin him, he could zlin them.
        "You guys, I think this has gone far enough, don't you?"
        "No!"
        Deah stared at Betta. "I can't believe you, Betta! Why not?"
        "Because the more scared Tengstun gets, the less chance Arat can pull him out of it. And I want to see Arat's ass lose!"
        "So do I, but not at the expense of some innocent Gen's sanity." Deah felt sick with stress.
        "Oh, like old mister tank-storm isn't going to bounce right back from this like a prizefighter."
        "You can't believe this isn't going to leave lasting scars!"
        "That all depends on how well Arat handles him afterward," said Mepig. "He seems pretty confident right now."
        "But Arat always seems confident. It's just a facade."
        "No it isn't," Jeniard objected, which they ignored.
        "Would you guys shush!" hissed Sorel. "Look!"
        Sudden movement in the other room grabbed all their attentions.
        Somehow the professor had gotten loose! With his heart in his throat and a wild look in his eyes, Mr. Tengstun bolted for the door. Arat hesitated just long enough to cast doubt on the timing of it, then augmented to outrace the man and block the door shut with his back.
        Mr. Tengstun skidded wildly to a stop.
        "Then again, who needs the transfer lounge?" said Arat. He grabbed the professor in a transfer grip and selyn jumped between them for the moment before he let the man go.
        Tengstun staggered backward, eyes wide. "I felt that!"
        "I should hope so," said Arat, panting with quelled augmentation and wearing a weird glint in his eye. "You should have had years of donation experience before we went that far."
        "What he did!" gasped Deah, clutching her head. "I can't believe it!"
        Mepig and Jeniard exchanged delirious grins. Sorel slapped her knee in excitement and Betta had a stupid grin on her face too.
        "Are you people all idio -"
        "Shh!" and "quiet!" they chorused in whisper.
        For the first time Mr. Tengstun seemed to become aware that this was no ordinary donation situation. He backed slowly away from Arat, trying to make no sudden moves.
        "W-w-w-what are you going to do to me?"
        Arat cocked his head. "What do you mean? Just take down your field. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
        He really isn't going to stop, is he? He won't let up until the poor guy is a worthless wreck. And there's nothing I can do about it. Not even with my own friends.
        In the other room, Arat started forward again, deliberately cat-graceful. In that instant, Deah broke. "I can't zlin this!" She started to rush from the room, but Mepig jumped to hold her back.
        "Hey! You have to witness this for him to win!"
        "I don't care! I have to get out of here!" She bolted from the room and emerged gasping into the reality of the corridor. Mepig came out after her.
        "Don't say anything," she said, as she fled towards the lobby.
        "I won't, I won't!" he said. "Don't worry. It was going a little too far, wasn't it?"
        Already Deah felt like a fool. She shouldn't have run. Mepig's little pals would have a field day. Arat himself would laugh at her. That would be unbearable. But she couldn't have stayed in there one more moment. Or could she have?
        "Just leave me alone," she said. "I'll come back in a few minutes. I just have to get some fresh air."
        And think of some way to make up for this utterly crippling status disaster.
        "You don't have to be embarrassed," said Mepig, although he knew the stakes as well as she. "I understand."
        "Stop following me...." Deah let her voice trail off as they hit the wide lobby, and found themselves face to face with none other than Mrs. Tengstun.
        Mrs. Tengstun was a tallish, rather portly Gen of middle age. She wore an outdoor coat and floppy hat and carried a purse. Fortunately she had not stopped them to ask where her husband was. Instead, she had just then stood up to inquire of the lobby at large,
        "Can somebody show me where the restroom is?"
        Deah's quick mind and slower nager shrieked opportunity!
        Deah and Mepig's eyes met. Their eyes darted to the corridor down which the women's room lay. Their eyes darted to the basket where the blank donation forms waited. Their eyes darted to the waiting Gen. Their eyes met again and Mepig blurted, "You wouldn't!"
        "Oh yes I would!" Deah shoved past him and smiled warmly at the older woman. "Right this way, Mrs. Tengstun!" On the way out she grinned wickedly over her shoulder at a stunned Mepig and snagged a donation form.

        Deah waited with the form rolled up in her back pocket until Mrs. Tengstun had finished her business and was washing her hands.
        This would be a real donation. She'd be gentle, and kind, and the woman would be begging to do another one next month. Yes!
        She moved up beside the Gen, noting the woman appeared to have no particular fear of her Simeness, and said, "Isn't it hard to go home when your husband is going to be staying in Sime territory?"
        Sadness erupted in the Gen's nager. She turned to Deah, wearing the surprisingly powerful sadness on her face. "Oh yes! It's so hard. I am going to miss him so terribly!" Tears started to pour down her cheeks.
        "Er... uh, have you considered, you know, giving a donation so you could stay with him?"
        "Of course! But...." the woman looked at Deah closely. "You don't know anything about my case?"
        "No. Is there something I should know?"
        "Oh! Well... not at all. It's just... well it's not that I haven't been interested in donating."
        "You haven't? I mean, you have? Well why haven't you donated then?"
        "Well it's... you see... it's the position. You know, always the... the same position."
        Same position... same position as what?... Oh! Same position for killing as for transfer?
        Deah took a deep breath. "Is that all?" she asked baldly.
        The woman looked up, sniffling. "What do you mean?"
        "Well, I happen to know of a position that would allow me to take down your field, but which would be impossible for a real transfer or a kill. If the transfer position is all you're afraid of, that shouldn't stand in the way of your being with your husband."
        "What kind of position are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Tengstun, hope dawning in her nager. "I thought the Tecton only used the one."
        "Oh my, no," laughed Deah. "There are actually hundreds of possible positions, some of them better for some things than others. Well the position I'm thinking of works fine for taking down fields, but isn't much good for anything else."
        A greedier kind of hope was developing. "You know hundreds of possible positions...?"
        "Well you see... er..." Deah found her memory failing her at a completely inopportune moment. "The one I'm thinking of is sort of... back to back. Yeah, it's back to back. Touching heads."
        You idiot! How are you going to manage that? Stupid!
        Mrs. Tengstun reared back. "You must think I was born yesterday! That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"
        Deah spread her hands. "Well, okay, I suppose it must sound a bit implausible to you, but I can absolutely guarantee that when you walk out there, everybody will know you're low-field."
        "Young lady, this is really too much. I don't believe transfer, or kills, or donation, or anything else is possible from the position you describe!" She picked up her purse and turned to leave.
        Deah couldn't let her escape! Not after Arat had pulled such a crazy stunt with the professor. And not after she had utterly embarrassed herself by fleeing that situation like a bleating sheep.
        She cast about wildly for a solution. Betta and Sorel supplied one.
        "How about a... monetary wager on it!"
        Mrs. Tengstun paused. "A... what?"
        "Look. Your husband makes a good salary I'd imagine. And my stipend is excellent. We could easily afford to bet... " -- Deah named a figure that made the woman's eyelids snap back like window shades -- "that you will be totally satisfied with my services."
        Mrs. Tengstun's lips twitched. "Can't you get in trouble for that?"
        "Well, I suppose so, if anybody were to tell." Deah met Mrs. Tengstun's eyes curiously. "I wouldn't tell... would you?"
        "So you're willing to bet that kind of money that you can take my field down from that position?"
        "I absolutely guarantee it."
        The Gen seemed sorely tempted. "Oh, I don't know. You seem awfully young..."
        "Mrs. Tengstun, I assure you there is absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I may look young, but I am sixteen years old, legally adult by the standards of either Territory."
        "But without permission..."
        "Oh, don't you worry about that either. You and I will fill out a few forms afterwards, then I'll straighten out the details with my tea - uh, superiors long after you're gone." Deah continued to meet her eyes steadily. Then she added, softly, "You do want to stay with your husband, don't you?"
        "Well yes, but...." The older woman wavered for a moment, and then said in a rush, "Oh all right. Let's do it."
        "Okay," said Deah. "Let's just go to a transfer room, and -"
        "Why, what's there?" demanded Mrs. Tengstun.
        "Uh well there's the tra... er.... " transfer lounge, emergency kit, "...uh... okay, never mind. We can do it here if you want."
        Well it will look more impressive to the others, anyway.

        A few moments later found Mrs. Tengstun divested of her hat and coat and purse and the two of them standing back to back.
        "This is ridiculous," complained Mrs. Tengstun.
        "Just bear with me." Deah groped for, and caught, Mrs. Tengstun's other wrist and pulled them both close enough so that she could get a good grip with hands and tentacles. It felt utterly bizarre. The back of the head felt like it was going to provide a far worse fifth contact point than she had feared. There was too much hair in the way and she was utterly disoriented by the Gen's field in such a strange position relative to her own. She gulped. Well, it was now or never. Never wasn't really an option, so....
        "A-are you ready?"
        "Yes!"
        She was caught off guard by a surge of very un-GN-like anticipation in the nager at her back. It brought an almost intil-like sensation into her own system. Yikes!
        "Try not to - uh - " What was she supposed to tell the Gen, not to want to do it? Well it would all be over with soon. She just prayed the back-of-the-head contact point would give her enough control. "Oh never mind. Here we go...."

        It started out so well. That's what she always remembered later... the surprise at the woman's apparent eagerness, and then her own first thoughts... oh, this is going better than I thought. Then,         utterly without warning, Deah was slammed out of channel's functional mode. The flow of selyn diverted from Deah's secondary system into her primary with a shock that stunned.
        Pain screeched through the Gen's nerves!
        Confusion and terror gripped Deah and she tried to abort, only to discover the Gen herself had managed to snatch control and Deah didn't have good enough control in this position to stop her.
        And then, for one astonishing moment Mrs. Tengstun was cresting the wave, feeling a pure unadulterated joy in giving!
        Then, abruptly, it ended.
        The shock of shen threw them apart, and Deah came up hard against a sink, face pressed to a cold mirror, hand braced against the wall. I killed her. I killed! And for a stupid dare! All I was trying to do was take a donation! Paralyzed by shock, and by self-condemnation, Deah could do nothing but stand rigidly and try to breathe and try not to think.
        Then, Gen hands grabbed her and swung her around. To her disbelief, Mrs. Tengstun was still standing! And she had a huge grin on her face.
        "I loved it! Now lets try it forwards!"
        "Oh no..."
        The Gen grabbed Deah's forearms, and pulled them together to make a lip contact.
        "I don't think - maaugh!"

        Ten of the longest minutes of Deah's life later, her spinal column was on fire, her skull felt like it was going to split in two, and the ground kept rushing up as if to meet her chin. Other than that she felt like a piece of yesterday's trash stomped on and blown by the wind.
        But Mrs. Tengstun was finally low-field.
        "Why don't you go out and meet your husband?" whispered Deah. "He'll probably be glad to hear you'll be staying with him."
        "What about our bet? You have definitely won fair and square."
        "You can keep your money." Deah lowered herself unsteadily onto the ronaplin-smeared ladies lounge sofa. "I think I'm just going to lie down for a minute."
        "Oh honey, are you all right?" The demon-woman began to look concerned at last.
        "Actually some of those - er, positions - aren't the easiest ones to perform, for the channel," admitted Deah, as she shielded her pulsating eyes with a forearm. Her arm's weight threatened to collapse her head like a frost-damaged tomato. I should be dead. I wish I were dead.
        "But I can't just go out there alone! Won't they want some kind of explanation...?"
        "You're right, you're right. Here, help me up. No - never mind, I can make it." Shying away from the woman's touch, Deah dragged herself up through a supreme effort. She staggered to the door, got it halfway open, and stood swaying. "I think we should stop by a medicine cabinet first."
        Mrs. Tengstun followed solicitously as Deah wobbled a short distance down the hallway and into the nearest unused transfer room. Fortunately nobody else was in the hallway at the time. Once inside, Deah clawed open the medicine cabinet and poured two cups of fosebine. She slugged down one and offered the other to the Gen.
        "Oh, no thank you dear."
        "Don't you have a headache?"
        "Not at all!" chirped Mrs. Tengstun. "In fact I haven't felt this fantastic in years!"
        Deah downed Mrs. Tengstun's share too. I hope I overdose.
        "Didn't you say there was some paperwork we needed to fill out?"
        "Oh... yeah." Deah swallowed nasty fosebine aftertaste and fumbled uncoordinatedly for the rolled form in her back pocket, now sadly rumpled from having been pinned between her and various surfaces. Repeatedly. "Here."
        She leaned against a wall and was startled when Mrs. Tengstun jiggled her arm seemingly only moments later.
        "I'm done!" She pushed the papers and a pen at Deah.
        Deah blinked. The words seemed to swim in and out. Fosebine was a fine painkiller but it did tend to make one woozy. Or was that the aftereffects of having experienced every known form of transfer difficulty known to channeling within a fifteen-minute time span?
        Finally she managed to focus on the words. "Deah seemed rather timid and unsure of herself, but was very kind to me."
        Ohgod.
        Deah gripped the pen carefully, filled in a few fake numbers, then on her own comments line, she wrote "Showed signs of voluntary control. Should be considered for special training." Or banishment from Sime Territory, she added to herself.
        "Okay, let's go back to the lobby. They have to be wondering where we are."

        The fosebine seemed to be having some effect. Summoning her very best opaque showfield, Deah accompanied Mrs. Tengstun back out to the lobby, where the lights and nagers were painfully bright.
        Mepig was there waiting. His eyes grew round. The receptionist and the dignitaries' staff and escort were there too, but Arat and Mr. Tengstun were nowhere to be seen.
        Deah frowned. "Your husband should have been done by now."
        "He always did have excellent staying power," said Mrs. Tengstun fondly.
        Deah stared at her in amazement. Was the woman actually post?
        I can't believe it.
        "Look, why don't you sit down here and I'll go look for him?"
        Mepig moved hastily from his frozen position. "I'll help you look!" As soon as they were around the corner, Mepig grinned incredulously. "I can't believe you did it! And she was positively glowing! But... er... you look like hell. What in the world happened in there?"
        Deah snarled.
        Within moments they were back in the observation room. Sorel and Betta and Jeniard stared at her and Jeniard's eyes bugged. He was the most sensitive student at Othwol after Arat. He could probably zlin every detail in her nager. "What the shen happened to you?" he whispered.
        "It's a long story. What happened here while I was gone?"
        "Nothing," said Betta. "They finished and now the guy has been taking a very long, careful, thoughtful time filling out his evaluation."
        "Oh, no."
        "You're telling me. Look at Arat."
        Arat's arms were wrapped tensely around his chest, and he chewed nervously on a thumbnail.
        They laughed silently. Even Deah had to, despite her condition.

        Just then, Mr. Tengstun finished with a flourish and pushed the paper over in Arat's direction, with a smug expression.
        Arat picked up the paper and read it. His nager betrayed a stab of alarm which convulsed the watching students in silent giggles once again.
        Frowning to himself, Arat handed the paper back.
        "I'm finished," said Mr. Tengstun.
        "Actually, I'd like you to change a couple of things," said Arat.
        Tengstun bristled. "Like what?"
        "Well... for one thing, you just weren't graphic enough when you described your fear."
        "What?" Mr. Tengstun grabbed the paper and scanned what he'd written. "'I have never been so terrified in all my life' isn't explicit enough?"
        Arat shrugged. "That part's okay, so far as it goes. But when you're leading up to it... your wording is just too tame. It's to your advantage to exaggerate. They'll be more likely to give you a First Order channel next time if they think you'll have a hard time."
        "You've got to be kidding me."
        "No. Look here. Change this 'intimidating body language' to, er, 'came after me like a fiend out of my worst nightmares'. And this... 'tentacle grip a little more firm than strictly reassuring' change that to 'he seized me with brutal force and pinned me down despite my best efforts to escape'."
        "That makes me sound like a screaming ninny!" exclaimed the Gen, outraged.
        Arat gave him a condescending look. "You think they're not going to deduce the same thing from what you wrote? This place is used to in-Territory Gens. Nobody blinks an eye at giving donation. Your form is going to ring more bells than a railroad crossing no matter what you write, just on account of your being scared."
        "I wasn't scared, young man," said Mr. Tengstun severely, "so much as offended."
        "Oh, you were scared all right. Offended is what you were when I stood up during your lecture and asked you about the DunBaton Charge and General Catamon's escape to Vastil."
        Mr. Tengstun gave a start of recognition. "That was you?"
        "Yes," said Arat. "And by the way, I wasn't asking to be funny, I really wanted to know your opinion."
        "Just why does an in-Territory kid like you know anything about the Battle at DunBaton?"
        "There it goes again. Right now, you're offended. What you felt during your donation, on the other hand, was pure, naked fear. Terror, Mr. Tengstun."
        The professor drew himself up stiffly. "Young man. It is natural for the Gen to feel a certain amount of apprehension around the Sime. You are predators and we are your natural prey."
        Arat's eyebrows twitched upward. "You sound like my parents."
        "Your parents were Gens?"
        "No. Junct Simes. Pro junct-rights junct Simes. They believed in that whole Sime-as-predator, Gen-as-prey thing."
        "And you don't?"
        Arat scowled suddenly, possibly the first truly honest expression he'd worn since the donation had begun.
        "Of course not. It's ridiculous. I've taken hundreds of donations, and you're the first one to ever be scared."
        "Yes, but those were in-Territory Gens, you said."
        Arat shrugged irritably. "So what? Gens are Gens. You could learn fearlessness yourself, if you bothered to." He reached across and picked up the paper, scanned the comments on it again. He gestured with it. "This is - is - denial." He dropped it back on the table.
        "Denial!"
        "Yes. And you will never learn not to fear until you can face the fact that you do fear donating."
        There was a long pause while Mr. Tengstun considered that. His nager gradually shifted toward annoyance.
        "My boy. You are, how old? Twelve?" Arat stiffened in warning, but the man went on. "Thirteen perhaps? Well. When you're my age, you'll understand there is a certain self-confidence an older person possesses which will not allow the wool to be pulled over his eyes by youngsters such as yourself."
        Deah knew Arat already understood that. In fact he was rather overly knowledgeable on that subject, which was why it was so easy for him to ignore the other students' attempts to trick or insult him.
        He regarded the professor, deadpan. "And?"
        "You're trying to get me to believe I was more scared than I really was. You've probably got some stake in the results. What was it, a dare by some other students? A prank you had to call in advance?"
        Whoops. Arat flinched visibly and nagerically as the man's aim proved surprisingly accurate. Maybe there was something to the age difference after all.
        "It's nothing like that," Arat shot back stiffly. "I'm just concerned about your future as a donor. Perhaps if you won't listen to me, you'll listen to the lessons your own Gen history has taught." He raised a quick hand to fend off Tengstun's next words. "No, let me continue. I want you to consider the DunBaton Charge."
        "The DunBaton Charge again? What does -"
        "What happened at DunBaton was long one of the great unanswered questions in Gen military history," said Arat. "Did General Catamon lead a heroic charge, or did he flee to Vastil? Either way, his men were slaughtered, right? But still everybody wanted to know."
        Tengstun squirmed. "I don't see how this is relevant -"
        "Actually, it is very relevant," said Arat. "You see, the world is fascinated by pivotal figures. Would we all be dead today if Klyd Farris hadn't led the Tecton to victory? Or if Risa Tigue hadn't changed his way of thinking? Actually, almost any public figure plays a crucial role in one way or another.
        "You, for example. You're a public figure, are you not? Really, you are every bit as well known as General Catamon was in his day. People will watch what you do. People will argue about why you did what you did: why you had a policy against giving donations."
        "It's bec - "
        "It all comes down to one thing, Mr. Tengstun: Fear. Do you not donate because you don't believe in it politically, or do you not donate out of fear?"
        "I don't see how it matters -"
        "But it does! These records are confidential now, but how much longer are you going to be alive? Fifteen years? Twenty? Out-Territory donations are going to be an issue far longer than that. When you die, this folder will go on public record. Do you know what it will be then? Do you know what this is?" Arat tapped the folder with the tip of a dorsal. "This is Catamon's diary."
        Tengstun sputtered. "That's prepos-"
        Arat pounded out the words with the tip of his tentacle. "You have to tell the truth, because you are making history!" He leaned back, regarding Tengstun seriously. "Catamon didn't lie in his diary. Not only did he admit the truth to himself, he admitted it to the entire world. True, what he did was cowardly. But it was human nature. Your fear of transfer is every bit as real and disastrous as the fear that made General Catamon abandon his troops in their time of greatest peril. But did he shrink from his own emotion, or did he record it for all of posterity to understand?"
        "But he had no idea anybody would be reading -"
        "Ah, but you do. And you are an historian, so you should know your responsibilities to the historians of the future. So." Arat pushed the form back to Tengstun's side of the table. "Rewrite."
        "You are a manipulative little fiend, aren't you? Did you plan this whole -"
        "Mr. Tengstun, I am a channel. I am only looking out for your best interests as a donor. Trust me on this: if you admit your fear now, it will be that much easier for you to overcome in the future."
        "But you're trying to get me to work against my own cause!" Tengstun accused. "Twenty-five years from now, if I say I was scared, then it would suggest I was against out-Territory donations due to personal fear of donating. It would discredit all my work to slow the growth of the Tecton into our Territory!"
        Arat appeared somewhat caught off guard. "Well, but -"
        "If I say I was not scared, then that would strengthen my cause, those twenty five years from now. As if Catamon's diary were exposed and showed that he'd led the charge after all. It's as if I were Catamon myself, and deliberately tailoring my diary entry to shape the future."
        "But - "
        "Therefore it's in my best interests to do exactly the opposite as you say, to pretend utter fearlessness -- and to force you to confirm that fearlessness in your own half of the notes."
        Arat looked rather surprised. "I have to tell the truth about what I zlinned!"
        "Well it hardly makes any sense for me to say I wasn't scared if you turn around and say that I was!"
        "But it's your notes that they'll be reading. Mine will just be the word of some Tecton Sime."
        "Everybody knows Simes can zlin emotions. I'd look like an idiot if I denied it and you contradicted me."
        "Um... yeah," said Arat, as if he hadn't though of that. Arat really could do a fairly convincing teenage boy if he tried hard. "But I can get in trouble for lying on official forms."
        "You'd get in more trouble if I marched up to the front desk and told them you'd scared me deliberately, wouldn't you?"
        Sweat popped out on Arat's forehead. "No! Er... I mean, I didn't scare you deliberately."
        "Of course you did. I don't know why I didn't realize it at the time. You deliberately played on my fears to trigger the Gen terror of donation. Probably because you wanted me to poison the future with this piece of paperwork."
        "No! What are you talking about? Er... I wasn't thinking anything of the.. uh...." Arat met his eyes and then sank back down into his chair as if in defeat. "Well, maybe -"
        "Tell me, young man. Do you come from a political family?"
        Arat grimaced. "You could say that." It was the understatement of the century.
        "Ah. It all becomes clear. Young boy finds himself in over his head after attempting to emulate his father's political machinations."
        Arat rubbed his temples. His nager denied the presence of any sudden attack of headache, but it sure looked real.
        "It may look like that to you, but -"
        "First rule of politics. Never, ever go up against someone as plainly superior to you as I. I'll just end up twisting the situation to my advantage, and leaving you with a loss of face."
        Arat sighed. "I'm beginning to see that."
        "Now, you are a pretty sharp boy, for only being... what is it? Twelve years old?"
        "Actually, I'm -"
        "It takes balls to pull a stunt like you just tried, and I admire that. It's especially impressive coming from a kid as young as you, and a Sime besides. So I'll tell you what. I am going to take advantage of this situation, just to teach you a lesson. But, I won't tell on you.
        "Instead, I'm going to fill this out again, saying everything went perfectly smoothly, but recording an official protest against being forced by the Tecton's laws to make a donation. Then you will fill out your part, indicating that I performed with perfect calmness and how you admired my firm commitment to my beliefs."
        Mepig sank down on his knees, tears of laughter on his face. "Oh Arat, you are a god," he whispered, grinning like a fool.
        Up until that last part, Deah had been sure Arat was being beaten badly at his own game. "I don't believe it."
        "I'll go get you another form," said Arat dully, shoulders slumped as if in defeat. The Gen was eating it up. He suspected nothing as Arat skulked out of the room.

        A moment later, their door opened and Arat entered. He was moving fast, impatiently, sweating. The teenage boy of his act was utterly gone, replaced by his usual intense, disdainful manner and aristocratic accent.
        "Jeniard. The form." Jeniard bolted from the room. "Mepig. Take this." Arat gestured sharply. The big kid went to him immediately, offering his arms. They joined briefly in full transfer position as Arat offloaded the contraband part of Tengstun's selyn. Just as they finished, Jeniard returned, panting, form in hand. Arat turned to him. "You go wait in the lobby. Mepig, go back to the dorm. Don't let anybody see you leave."
        His eyes flicked over Betta and Sorel and lit upon Deah. He did a double take as he zlinned the difference in her fields. His eyes met hers in the whites-showing look of genuine Arat surprise.
        "I'm sure you'll hear all about it later," Deah promised.
        Arat's mouth hardened, and he turned and left abruptly.

        "We'd better get out of here," said Betta. She looked curiously at Deah when Deah failed to go anywhere.
        "You know, this has been one weird evening," said Deah weakly.
        "What in shen happened to you anyway?" asked Betta, appalled by what she zlinned.
        "Shen was part of it... let's just say I found the perfect answer for Arat's dare, and took it upon myself to uh, follow it up."
        The two stared at each other. "The professor's wife?"
        Deah let out a wheezy chuckle.
        "Deah, you're a complete maniac!"
        "What's going to happen when they find out?"
        "Good gravy, we don't want to get caught in here. Let's slip out the back way."
        "Wait a minute, we can't be seen anywhere with Deah like this."
        "Well, fix it!"
        There followed a few intense minutes of whispered questions and various tentacle grips.
        "How much selyn did you list on Mrs. Tengstun's donation form?"
        "What did you have in you before?"
        "Better do an internal shunt to get that primary system back to where she was at."
        Betta and Sorel sure were in their element!
        Deah submitted to their help and instructions in a kind of daze. When they were done, they shook her out of it.
        "That'll do for a quick cover-up. Betta's got the extra. Come on, Deah, let's get you moving," The two of them hustled Deah out the door and down the hallway toward the back of the building. They had only made it a few yards when:

        "There you are!" Tisce and Lero, two of the Donors on duty, rounded the corner and nabbed them. Sorel and Betta stiffened in dismay but Deah melted in relief. She needed all the nageric support she could get.
        "We've been looking all over for you, Deah. Mrs. Tengstun claims you took down her field a few minutes ago."
"Oh I er..." Deah allowed herself to get towed back toward the lobby; her friends hesitated, then Betta slipped away while Sorel followed them up front.

        "There she is! The kind and darling girl who took down my field!" Mrs. Tengstun would have crushed Deah in a hug, but Tisce distracted her.
        "How did this happen, again? In the restroom?"
        "Well you see, it was all my fault!" gushed the Gen. "All she did was show me to the restroom, and while we were there I burst into tears over how sad I was not being able to stay with my dear husband here in Sime Territory... and then... oh it was so generous, she took down my field so I could stay here after all! And I wasn't scared for even a moment!"
        Deah rolled her eyes. She had been more than scared enough for both of them.
        "Do you admit to doing this?" demanded Lero.
        "Yes," said Deah. Well, there wasn't any use in trying to deny it was there?
        "But this isn't your writing." He shoved a form in her face and she recognized it as the correct form, but her writing was, well, not looking like much like itself.
        "You know it's kind of a long story...."
        "Did you have any trouble with her?" asked Tisce. Deah stared at him; his face and nager seemed a bit more urgent than she would have expected. It dawned on her, for the first time, that there might have been some prior data on Mrs. Tengstun's... problem. In fact, now that she thought of it, it seemed highly unlikely that this could have been Mrs. Tengstun's first experience with a channel.
        Deah managed to divert a dismayed expression into a weak grin. "Oh... no, no problem at all."
        After Mrs. Tengstun had gone back to her chair, Lero grabbed Deah. "What a relief. You have no idea what a disaster that could have turned into. But please, please. Whatever you do, don't tell us Mr. Tengstun has been with Arat Audnes this whole time."
        Deah swallowed. "Okay," she squeaked. Her face must have betrayed the truth.
        "He has?" Tisce demanded, suddenly panicky.

        "He's right here," said a firm voice from behind them. It was the voice of professor Tengstun. They all whirled to face it.
        Calmly, with dignity, Arat and the professor entered the lobby. Mr. Tengstun zlinned of triumph and smug satisfaction and had them all over his face as well. Arat appeared, externally, rather subdued. To a Gen he might appear to be clinging to the shreds of his personal pride. But his nager made it clear he still thought far too much of himself as usual.
        They stopped by the desk and Arat put the folder in the basket. Or he tried to - but Tisce snatched it out of his hand and opened it. Lero snatched the new form out before Tisce got a chance.
        They read it together with utter disbelief. It took some moments. Arat took the opportunity to retreat from their presence and join Jeniard, who had been lurking in anticipation of some serious motherhenning.
        "Arat didn't give you any trouble, did you?" asked Lero suspiciously.
        "Nothing I couldn't handle," said the professor, with a broad wink at Arat. Arat winced and avoided his gaze. Jeniard moved closer, proud to be Arat's protector. Deah shook her head.
        "That is... frankly it's amazing," said Tisce. "We don't normally assign him to out-Territory cases."
        "Well, he was fine. In fact, I couldn't have asked for anybody better! Now, where is my Daisy?"
        "Right here, darling!" trilled Mrs. Tengstun. The two of them met right before the doors, and exchanged a hug and a kiss. "Are you ready?"
        "Urrr, ready for what?" Mr. Tengstun bounced his eyebrows.
        "Ready for anything?" asked Mrs. Tengstun, playfully.
        Ohgod, thought Deah. Her stomach heaved but luckily she managed to clamp down on the sensation before anything messy occurred. A moment later, Sorel moved in between her and them.
        "Thanks," Deah breathed. Nightmares. I just know it.
        Before they left, Mr. Tengstun turned to find Arat back along the wall. "I look forward to seeing you on the political battlefield someday, youngster," he said confidently.
        Arat nodded silently. As soon as the man's back was turned, he narrowed his eyes.
        And then the pair were gone, sweeping out the door followed by their staff and escorts.

        ----

        As the students escaped out into the evening air, they were met by Mepig and Betta who'd divested themselves of the stolen selyn somewhere. Mepig threw a comradely arm around Arat's shoulders, something he could probably only get away with on rare occasions.
        "So we're all dying to know... did you know exactly what you were going to do the whole time?"
        Before Arat could answer, Sorel interrupted. "Are you kidding? That guy was dragging Arat after him like a runaway horse!"
        "Yeah," said Betta. "Now that was pure entertainment!"
        Arat's nager glinted fury, and Mepig removed his arm hastily. "I knew exactly what I was doing," said Arat stiffly.
        The nageric warning was lost completely on Sorel. "Oh come on. We could all zlin where he scared the crap out of you. That happened what, two three times? And in the end! It's a good thing he had the wrong idea about what you were after, or you'd have lost the dare big time."
        "No kidding!" said Betta. "I had goose bumps! I was thinking, if he loses, I win!"
        "We had a private wager," added Sorel.
        Jeniard interposed himself hastily, trying to simultaneously protect and soothe. "Let's not forget, Arat won his dare fair and square. All the terms said was he should scare Mr. Tengstun silly without anyone finding out."
        Arat's nager went fierce and unreadable and Deah winced for poor Jeniard. That the guy had jumped to the defense so quickly implied he'd zlinned all sorts of things the rest of them hadn't picked up on. He might pay for that quick defense later, in private.
        "So wait a moment," said Mepig, interested. "So you're saying you knew what you'd do from the time you stood up in class and asked him about that... whatsit called, the battle and the General?"
        Arat lifted his chin. "Yes."
        "You figured he'd have to be stuck on that General if he answered your question the way he did?"
        "Yes."
        "But you can't deny you were scared you weren't going to succeed," Mepig persisted. "We were right there, we could zlin."
        Arat hesitated, then darted a dark glance at Jeniard. "The timing was off. And he did prove more trouble than I'd expected. But I never doubted I would succeed. I was more concerned that it was taking too long and someone would walk in and interrupt."
        "Yeah, like during the part where he said he could just walk up to the front desk and tell them you scared him deliberately," guffawed Betta. "That would have been classic!"
        Sorel turned to her. "Where's my money?"
        Jeniard glared at Deah. "Can't you keep your people under control?"
        Deah's eyebrows raised. Before she could say anything appropriate ("Control is Arat's issue, not mine" was on the tip of her tongue) Arat demanded,
        "What happened to you?"
        "Deah took Mrs. Tengstun's donation!" exclaimed Mepig excitedly. "Offered to show her the way to the restroom, picked up the forms on the way out, and wham! The woman comes back low field!"
        Arat froze, threatened by the surprised admiration of Deah they all showed. Even Jeniard. "You took Mrs. Tengstun's donation?"
        "In the bathroom, yeah." Deah blushed. "Actually to tell the truth, once we got started it was more like she was doing it to me."
        "What happened?" squealed Betta, seizing Sorel's arm.
        "First she grabbed control away from me and then didn't know what to do with it. She tried to turn it into a transfer. I swear she was burned. Then she shenned me. But the incredible thing was, she liked it! And she wanted more. No sooner had I come to my senses again then she grabbed me by the arms and tried to start the transfer again. Pretty soon we were doing it over and over again.
        "She was a maniac! Backwards. Forwards. Standing up, lying down, in the bathroom stall, on the bathroom stall, under the sinks, on the women's lounge furniture, up against the wall...." she stopped as everybody stared at her, incredulous.
        "You don't believe me? Just zlin my nager. Between the shens, backflows, control swaps, and transfer burns I'm lucky to be alive. It's going to take all night to hide the evidence."
        Arat had been watching her with narrowed eyes. Now he zlinned her at length. When he was done, he frowned, seeming lost in his own thoughts. Since there was no use in trying to pry him out of those, they abandoned him to Jeniard and began to walk toward the dorms. In the absence of actual contradiction by Arat, Mepig totally believed her story.
        "I don't get it," said Mepig. "How in the world could such a timid mouse of a Gen turn into such an animal?"
        "I don't know," confessed Deah. "But I do know the Mister had better watch out, she's Post as anything!"
        "You saw how Arat left him. He thinks he's invincible! I'd say it's their hotel's furniture that had better watch out." Mepig leered.
        "But what's going to happen when they get a chance to discuss their donations?" wondered Sorel.
        "They'll be well out of town before they get a chance," said Betta. "Their train leaves first thing in the morning, so they'll have to go to sleep early tonight." She paused at their amused expressions. "Well, they're Gens. They've got to sleep sometime... don't they?"
        "I hope for his sake they do get some kind of rest," said Deah, feeling it from her heart.
        "Hey! Mepig!" They turned to see Jeniard far behind them, beckoning. "What are you doing? Arat's going to be pissed!"
        Mepig sighed. "Oh okay, I'm coming." He turned back to them and winked conspiratorially. "Don't mind Hajene Undertow. He's just jealous because any one of those shocks you took would have killed him outright. No joke. You kick his ass on resilience."
        Mepig went off whistling, and left Deah staring.
        "What," said Betta. "It's the truth! Everybody knows it. You know it too, or you would've backed out on the donation as soon as you zlinned that woman's crazy nager."
        "What about her nager!" cried Deah.
        "You didn't zlin? The woman is utterly insane. Who knows what else she goes apeshit over?" Sorel zlinned Deah's horror and her eyes widened. "You really couldn't zlin? Man, I thought you'd at least have read her file. She was supposed to go back Out-Territory because there was no channel available considered safe to take her donation."
        Deah held her head in her hands. "I can't believe... you knew she was a wacko and you never mentioned it to me?"
        "You want a slave, get Jeniard. I prefer to assume you know what you are doing. Anyway I had no idea you'd actually go and take her donation. That's more like the kind of stunt Arat would pull."
        "And he's probably glad he didn't," Betta added.
        "But -"
        "Come on Deah," interrupted Betta. "Your secret is safe with us. Now let's go get started on your field so you can maybe get some sleep before your advancement tests tomorrow."
        "My tests?" echoed Deah weakly.
        Well. At least with those, there wouldn't be any surprises.