“Talyra wanted me to have children,” he said gently. “If there’s someone back in your village you’ll never see again, wouldn’t he feel the same? He wouldn’t want you to remain childless just to be faithful to a memory. We both cherish our memories—and if we’re both in the same situation, we won’t risk hurting each other.”
“Oh, Noren,” Lianne whispered, “I never want to hurt you—”
“You won’t. You don’t have to promise me anything. You’ll be better off if you don’t—if there was some problem with the vaccine my tests didn’t show, I won’t be able to have more children after the first, and you’ve got to be free to have babies with someone else. I accept that.”
The words seemed cold. Lianne didn’t respond, and Noren moved to take her in his arms, realizing suddenly that she might fear that because he wasn’t in love with her, he would offer her no tenderness. “I can’t make promises either, I haven’t the right,” he went on. “But don’t you know that while we’re together, it’ll be real for me? I mean, not like an experiment or anything—”
She wrenched away, almost on the verge of hysteria. “Tell me the truth,” Noren pleaded. “Is it the experiment itself? You’re not a geneticist like the woman in the dream; you didn’t do the lab work personally. I won’t be hurt if you believe I’m not competent to have done it safely—”
“No! No, it’s not that, I trust your genetic work—you’ve got to test or there’s no hope for this world’s future!” Lianne burst out. She struggled to choke back sobs, then resolutely continued, “I can’t let you think I don’t have confidence in you. Too much depends on this. I’d have your child if I could help that way, only—only I
can’t
, Noren. I—I can’t bear you a child. I mean… that is, I wouldn’t get pregnant.”
He stared at her, overcome with appalled sympathy. This was the answer to many of her secrets; no wonder she’d declared she would never marry. “Are you sure?” he asked gravely.
Lianne nodded, still weeping.
But she couldn’t be, Noren thought. In the villages women always got the blame for childlessness, but genetics had taught him that it could be the man’s fault. Lianne wasn’t the sort who’d have had enough experience to be sure.
Then too, some types of female infertility were curable. “More’s known in the City than in the villages,” he reminded her. “It may be that a doctor could help you.”
“A doctor—oh, no!” Her eyes widened with genuine dismay. “That’s out of the question, Noren.”
How odd, he thought—Lianne wasn’t easily embarrassed, and besides, she was a medical student. “Haven’t you thought of consulting a doctor now that you’re a Scholar?” he inquired.
“There’s no need—I am already absolutely sure.” Her composure restored, she was again speaking with the intensity of total conviction. “Please, let’s forget it, shall we? I haven’t told anyone else here—I shouldn’t have told you, even, only I had to convince you to ask some other woman. You aren’t in love with me, after all. It wouldn’t have been fair to let you waste time hoping I could have your baby.”
That was true, of course. Noren wondered why he was so disappointed.
*
*
*
She had told him to forget it, but he could not. He was distressed for Lianne’s sake.
I never wanted a baby
, she had said once long ago—poor Lianne, she had convinced herself she did not even want what she could not have. It wasn’t fair that someone so deserving of happiness should be deprived of one of the few joys not prohibited by life in the alien world. And perhaps it was unnecessary! If only she were willing to get a medical opinion… strange, how that suggestion had seemed to horrify her even more than the belief that she was infertile.
To be sure, doctors could not always help. There were, he knew, techniques for conceiving babies mentioned only in the secret genetics file, techniques banned as “obscene” under the Six Worlds’ rigid taboo against medically-assisted conception. In theory, it was possible to conceive a baby by laboratory methods and then implant it in its mother’s womb. Though it had shocked Noren to learn this, by now he had become objective. Yet for him it was not a valid scientific option. Even if people would tolerate the idea, even if he convinced some doctor to support his goal, the surgical and lab procedures were untried; there would be too many variables. If a child conceived by such means wasn’t normal, there’d be no knowing whether the genes or the medical techniques were to blame. He was already taking enough risks without departing from the time-proven way of fathering children.
So he must choose someone else. Some woman who wouldn’t be hurt—more than ever, after seeing Lianne’s emotions, he was resolved upon that. Who, then—Veldry? She was the only one he could think of, and she was unattached at present; her last lover had moved out of her room some weeks back. Inner City rumors being what they were, he’d have heard if anybody else had moved in, as would everyone. For that reason he could hardly move in himself. People knew him too well not to guess his motive; certainly Stefred did. But Veldry would realize that and would be discreet. She wasn’t one to let anyone’s secrets reach the Council.
Veldry had experienced the dream; he should at least get in touch with her to find out how she felt about it. Yet somehow he put off doing so. He could not get Lianne out of his mind.
What if Lianne was not infertile, what if it had been her husband’s problem all along? Even analysis of her genotype would tell something… and he could test that himself. All he’d need would be a blood sample—which, of course, he could not get without upsetting her terribly again. Village-reared women were like that; they felt worthless if they were barren. As if that would matter to a man who truly loved a woman! To Stefred, for instance…
All of a sudden Noren guessed what kept on troubling him. Lianne evidently hadn’t told Stefred; she’d said she had told no one but himself—yet it was probably why she’d refused Stefred’s proposal. She had felt unworthy! And that was tragic, for though a village man might consider her so, Stefred would not. Surely he, Noren, would be justified in clearing up the misunderstanding. He had not promised Lianne to keep what she’d said confidential.
“Look,” he said, confronting Stefred in his study, “I know this is none of my business, but I can’t stand by and see two people I care about kept apart when it may be needless. Has Lianne given you any idea why she won’t marry you?”
“Not in words,” Stefred replied painfully.
“You’re not one to give up easily without understanding the reason,” Noren observed, probing with the hope that Stefred might already suspect, that it might not be necessary to mention his own discussion with her.
“I know when it’s best not to pry,” Stefred said. “She has rejected all of her suitors. She—she seems to feel she couldn’t make anyone happy, which is of course untrue; but it’s something she believes, something from deep in her past, behind the mind barrier I found during her inquisition. I had no warrant to breach that barrier then. I’ve even less right now.”
“Yet you feared she might get involved in a genetic experiment.”
“It’s natural, in our culture anyway, for a woman to want a baby. If Lianne could have one without facing whatever buried emotions keep her from believing she’s desirable for her own sake—”
“Only she can’t,” declared Noren, aware that Stefred’s happiness—and Lianne’s—mattered more to him than the risk he was taking by revealing that genetic research still interested him. “Stefred, I—I talked to her about such experiments; I need to know people’s views. I asked her how she’d feel personally. She didn’t want to discourage me, she favors genetic change—so she was frank. She said she can’t have babies at all.”
Stefred’s eyes lit. “That explains a lot.”
“So I thought. She was emotionally upset, extremely so.”
“By the Star,” Stefred burst out, “I try to make allowances. I know village culture couldn’t have been kept from reverting in all ways when it had to regress technologically. I see heretics abused, sometimes murdered, and I resign myself to it—observing that kind of intolerance is part of my job. But the other kinds, like sexism—” With bitterness he continued, “Girls are treated like outcasts if they’re childless; I suppose Lianne’s family was fanatic about it. Her husband may have divorced her for sterility. No wonder she wouldn’t talk about her background.”
“And the whole thing could be a mistake,” Noren said unhappily. “I told her she could be tested, but she refused to consider it. Which is strange, when she’s studying medicine herself.”
“Not necessarily. It’s a painful topic to stir up—if she weren’t emotionally scarred, it would have come out naturally when I did the initial psychiatric exam.” Sighing, Stefred said, “Now that I know, I can convince her in time that I think no less of her for it. Yet as you say, it could be a mistaken idea; it’s too bad that she can’t be checked without raising her hopes.”
“I could find out from a blood sample if she’s genetically sterile,” Noren told him. “And if she’s not, either there’s no problem or it’s one that might be correctable.”
“She may not consent even to a blood test,” Stefred said, frowning.
“Need she? What possible violation of privacy would a simple blood test be now that she’s disclosed the only secret we could uncover by it?”
Thoughtfully, Stefred asked, “You can handle this test alone?”
“The computers do the analysis; it’s routine. I’ve already studied my own genotype a lot. I’d have gone ahead with hers, but I’ve no way to get a blood sample without her knowledge.”
“It would be easy enough for me to get it while she’s under hypnotic sedation,” admitted Stefred. “Tonight, even.”
“Is she still undergoing dreams in deep trance?” Noren asked, surprised. “I thought only the First Scholar’s recordings require that.”
“There are some specialized ones I’m using in her training—a psychiatrist has to understand the dark side of human nature, and in our circumstances here, dreams are the only means of learning. They’re rather nightmarish, but she wants to learn, and she can handle it.” Vehemently Stefred added, “Not one Scholar in a hundred could handle the stress at the rate she’s accepting it—yet she feels deficient because she’s never gotten pregnant! I can’t endure that, Noren—I can stand losing her to someone else if I must, but not seeing her underrate herself.”
“That bothers me, too,” Noren admitted. “I think a lot of Lianne.”
Late that night he got the sample of Lianne’s blood from Stefred and took it to the computer room. Carefully he put the test tube into position and, at the adjacent console, ordered a general genetic breakdown while framing in his mind the specific queries he would enter. The entire genotype would be analyzed in short-term memory, but there would be time to get output only on portions directly relevant to his concerns.
INPUT ACCEPTED—HUMAN MALE,
he was accustomed to seeing as the signal to begin questioning. He expected, this time, to see
HUMAN FEMALE.
The delay seemed unusually long. He turned to check the input equipment; it seemed to be functioning. Glancing back at the screen, he saw
INPUT UNIDENTIFIED. PLEASE ENTER SPECIES SO THAT GENE MAP CAN BE OBTAINED FROM AUXILIARY FILES.
Noren frowned. There were only three animal species on this planet: humans, fowl and work-beasts—these, plus common plants and microorganisms, could be identified and dealt with by the files already obtained. Auxiliary files stored information only on extinct species of the Six Worlds. In any case, the blood was human and should have been recognized as such. The computer system, programmed generations ago by the Founders, was infallible; if it were not, all science would have long since come to a standstill. But could the input device be out of order?
He had divided the blood sample into two tubes, having learned early in his work that tubes were all too easily dropped, especially when brought in concealed under his clothes. He had also learned that it was wise to carry a syringe and extra tubes when working with his own blood; from habit he had brought these with him. He put the contents of short-term memory into temporary storage, drew blood from an often-punctured vein, and proceeded to verify the input operation.
With his blood it worked perfectly, just as it always had.
He cleared short-term memory again and started over with the second sample of Lianne’s blood.
INPUT UNIDENTIFIED
,
the screen announced.
PLEASE ENTER SPECIES… .
HUMAN
,
Noren keyed impatiently.
THE INPUT GENOME IS NOT HUMAN,
the program responded promptly.
This was ridiculous; he had watched Stefred take the sample from Lianne’s arm.
HOW MUCH DOES IT DIFFER?
he asked, scowling in perplexity.
APPROXIMATE SIZE AND COMPLEXITY OF GENOME IS COMPARABLE, BUT BANDING PATTERN OF CHROMOSOMES IS DISSIMILAR. MORE EXTRA CHROMOSOMES ARE PRESENT THAN CAN BE ACCOUNTED FOR BY ANY KNOWN DISORDER.
HOW MUCH DIFFERENCE AT THE MOLECULAR LEVEL?
THAT CANNOT BE COMPUTED WITHOUT A GENE MAP FOR THE INPUT SPECIES. THERE IS NO INDICATION OF COMMON ANCESTRY; DIRECT MOLECULAR COMPARISON YIELDS NO GREATER SIMILARITY THAN WOULD RESULT FROM CHANCE.
Then somehow the data had been randomly garbled.
CAN SEX BE DETERMINED?
Noren inquired, groping.
ON THE BASIS OF MATCHING CHROMOSOME PAIRS, SEX IS FEMALE
.