The Story Untold and Other Sime~Gen Stories
Copyright Information
Copyright © 2011 by Sime~Gen, Inc.
Published by Wildside Press LLC
www.wildsidebooks.com
The Sime~Gen Series
House of Zeor, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#1)
Unto Zeor, Forever, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#2)
First Channel, by Jean Lorrah and Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#3)
Mahogany Trinrose, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#4)
Channel’s Destiny, by Jean Lorrah and Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#5)
RenSime, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#6)
Ambrov Keon, by Jean Lorrah (#7)
Zelerod’s Doom, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg and Jean Lorrah (#8)
Personal Recognizance, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#9)
The Story Untold and Other Stories, by Jean Lorrah (#10)
To Kiss or to Kill, by Jean Lorrah (#11)
The Farris Channel, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg (#12)
Other Jean Lorrah Books from Wildside:
Savage Empire (Savage Empire #1)
Dragon Lord of the Savage Empire (#2)
Captives of the Savage Empire (#3)
Flight to the Savage Empire (#4, with Winston A. Howlett)
Sorcerers of the Frozen Isles (#5)
Wulfston’s Odyssey (#6, with Winston A. Howlett)
Empress Unborn (#7)
Dedication
All my work in the Sime~Gen universe must first and foremost be dedicated to Jacqueline Lichtenberg, who many years ago invited me to come and play in the Sime~Gen universe. We have long since become business partners and best friends, and it is sheer delight to have the opportunity to continue these stories at last.
Both of us must acknowledge the fans who kept the dream of Sime~Gen alive after all the books went out of print—I can do no more than sincerely agree with Jacqueline’s sentiments below, both about our fans and about Karen MacLeod and Patric Michael. Without their help, we would not have simegen.com, and without simegen.com it is highly doubtful that there would be the opportunity to write new Sime~Gen stories.
Jacqueline and I believe in interaction between writers and readers, and invite comments on our work. Send them to simegen@simegen.com or simegen@gmail.com and we will both receive them. If you just want the latest news about our work and activities, though, see http://whatsnew.simegen.com (Note: no www, as it’s a blog).
I am grateful for the encouragement my readers have given me over the years, and sincerely hope those of you familiar with my work will enjoy these new adventures. If you’ve never read anything else I’ve written, welcome! I hope you’ll find something new and exciting in The Story Untold. To old friends, welcome back! I hope you also find something new here, along with whatever has brought you back for more.
Note: If this is your first venture into the Sime~Gen universe, I respectfully recommend that you read the three short stories in The Story Untold before reading Personal Recognizance. The stories introduce the background for the reader new to the Sime~Gen universe, and are set in the Year 1 after Unity, while the novel assumes you already know it and is set in the Year 245 of the official chronology: http://www.simegen.com/CHRONO1.html
If you have read all the other Sime~Gen novels over the years, though, feel free to plunge in anywhere! If not, there will be reprints available soon. Watch or drop us a note on the blog:
http://whatsnew.simegen.com
Acknowledgments
Firstly and most importantly, we have to acknowledge the extraordinary effort put forth by Karen MacLeod in meeting absurd copyediting deadlines during the final moments of production of this manuscript.
Over the years, Karen has taken skills learned in fanzine editing and honed and then applied them to become a professional copyeditor in the ebook field. With the October 2003 trade paperback release of Those of My Blood by Jacqueline Lichtenberg from BenBella Books, Karen has begun working on “tree-books.”
Cherri Munoz enthusiastically volunteered to use her talents as a publicist to line up autographing appearances at various bookstores for us, and has done other publicity work and even proofreading into the wee hours.
Beyond even that, as Cherri and Jacqueline accidentally ended up neighbors in Arizona for a while, Cherri saved Jacqueline a lot of writing time by helping her pick out a house, teaching her to navigate around town, and pointing out the best places to shop. Cherri even raced around town finding a copy of one of Jean’s novels, Survivors, when it was suddenly needed for show-and-tell because the producers of Trekkies Two, the sequel to the documentary Trekkies, (www.trekkies2.com ) asked to interview Jacqueline.
Jean Lorrah & Jacqueline Lichtenberg
Sime~Gen:
where a mutation makes the evolutionary
division into male and female
pale by comparison.
Chronology of the Sime~Gen universe
The Sime~Gen Universe was originated by Jacqueline Lichtenberg who was then joined by a large number of Star Trek fans. Soon, Jean Lorrah, already a professional writer, began writing fanzine stories for one of the Sime~Gen ’zines. But Jean produced a novel about the moment when the first channel discovered he didn’t have to kill to live which Jacqueline sold to Doubleday.
The chronology of stories in this fictional universe expanded to cover thousands of years of human history, and fans have been filling in the gaps between professionally published novels. The full official chronology is posted at
http://www.simegen.com/CHRONO1.html
Here is the chronology of the novels by Jacqueline Lichtenberg and Jean Lorrah by the Unity Calendar date in which they are set.
-533—First Channel, by Jean Lorrah & Jacqueline Lichtenberg
-518—Channel’s Destiny, by Jean Lorrah & Jacqueline Lichtenberg
-468—The Farris Channel, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
-20—Ambrov Keon, by Jean Lorrah
-15—House of Zeor, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
0—Zelerod’s Doom, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg & Jean Lorrah
+1—To Kiss or to Kill, by Jean Lorrah
+1—The Story Untold and Other Sime~Gen Stories, by Jean Lorrah
+132—Unto Zeor, Forever, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
+152—Mahogany Trinrose, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
+224—“Operation High Time,” by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
+232—RenSime, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
+245—Personal Recognizance, by Jacqueline Lichtenberg
Best of Fools
“Why do you introduce me as Tonyo?” demanded Zhag Paget’s young protégé. “My name is Tony.”
“That’s a Gen name,” Zhag replied.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I am Gen.”
“I mean, it’s an out-Territory name,” Zhag explained.
“In case you hadn’t noticed...,” Tonyo repeated, voice and energy field dripping sarcasm.
Zhag sighed. “It makes you sound like a Wild Gen.”
Annoyance resonated in the boy’s field as he threatened, “You want to see wild? Dammit, Zhag, I’m me, you don’t own me, and you can’t change my identity!” Abruptly he got up and stomped out, a frequent response to their disagreements. Was Tonyo used to someone who wouldn’t listen?
The Gen went only as far as the woodpile. Zhag picked up his shiltpron and went to sit on the rickety steps of his house. Snatches of melody churned up in his mind, disconnected phrases that would not form a tune. He plucked the notes anyway, knowing that music often soothed away his Gen’s annoyance.
Tonyo was chopping wood for the cookstove Zhag had never used—the extent of his “cooking” was to make tea over an oil burner. The Sime had l
earned to avoid disparaging comments about Gens and sharp instruments. He didn’t want to provoke the boy again, but he was relieved when Tonyo carried the wood inside and returned to sit at the other end of the step. Tonyo’s nager—the field of life energy that surrounded all humans, Simes like Zhag and Gens like Tonyo—precisely echoed the notes Zhag played.
Zhag let go of the senses he shared with Gens, except for hearing, and zlinned the boy with Sime senses. Perhaps Tonyo’s golden field would provide the inspiration to compose something. Anything. Just one more song before he died.
Or killed.
Zhag was prepared to die, but if he were to kill again—
That’s need depression talking, he told himself. The loss of creative energy was the worst effect of Zhag’s chronically unsatisfied need. When Tonyo was nearby—and not frustrated—he could almost...almost...feel normal.
But normal for Zhag was creating new music, not merely playing at Milily’s Shiltpron Parlor. Since Tonyo had joined him, he frequently felt well enough to improvise—as the Gen was doing now, vocalizing variations around Zhag’s new riff. But Tonyo had not warmed up his voice. He reached for a note—and missed. His field followed his voice out of tune, a jolt to Zhag’s wide open systems. When he next skidded flat, Zhag stopped playing. “Follow your nager with your voice.”
“What?” Gen confusion.
“Your nager has perfect pitch,” Zhag explained. “You think of yourself as a singer, Tonyo, but it’s your field Simes ‘listen’ to.”
“I know that,” the boy said.
“You know it, but you don’t feel it,” Zhag told him. The way I know I will never kill again, but can’t feel it—can’t trust that I’m not deluding myself.
“Well, I’m Gen!” Tonyo protested. “I can’t zlin.”
Zhag searched for words. “When you were listening, your field matched every note—before you started singing.”
Tonyo pondered. “I was thinking those notes.”
“That’s it, then, isn’t it?” Zhag suggested. “Follow your inner voice.”
The Sime played the riff again—then deliberately raised the key. The Gen met the challenge nagerically, but when he tried to follow with his voice, it cracked. He waved a hand. “I know. I’ll get it. Play it again.”
Zhag did...and Tonyo’s voice sailed up the scale, well above his normal range before it cracked again. Unmindful of Zhag’s wince, the young Gen laughed. “This is wonderful!”
“Not to me!” Zhag said through gritted teeth. “You’re still thinking about your voice.”
“But it’s my voice I’m trying to improve,” Tonyo said with impeccable Gen logic...something that theoretically couldn’t happen when he was speaking Simelan. The boy frequently managed to be equally dense in either language.
Zhag had no words to explain what he could have demonstrated to another Sime. “Try again,” he said, “and...focus on your field instead of your throat.”
Tonyo echoed the riff in different keys, voice and nager in synch until he ran out of his range and again shredded Zhag’s nageric comfort. Oblivious to the Sime’s reaction, he asked, “What’s the rest of the song? Does it have words?”
“There isn’t any more,” Zhag told him. “I haven’t been able to compose since— For a long time now. At this time of month it’s not possible anyway.”
“Maybe after your transfer,” Tonyo suggested. “When’s your appointment?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“No wonder you don’t feel creative.” Tonyo got up, stretching. “We’re out of food.” This close to hard need, the boy’s hunger made Zhag faintly ill.
“It’s market day,” said the Sime. “Come on—let’s get you something to eat.”
Zhag had to wonder how he could keep the Gen. It wasn’t so much the risk of having a high-field Gen nearby—Tonyo was as easy to be near as a Householding Companion. But Zhag’s earnings at the shiltpron parlor would not pay his Pen Taxes—Selyn Taxes, as they were called since Unity—and also feed a growing Gen. Until there were new laws, Tonyo was here only as a visitor. Since using up his small supply of money, he was dependent on Zhag...unless he became a selyn donor.
It was the obvious solution. Tonyo had donated twice before arriving in Norlea, but donating selyn, the life energy that Gens produced and Simes needed to live, would reduce Tonyo’s glorious field. No low-field Gen Zhag had ever zlinned could hold a roomful of Simes spellbound.
They had been performing together for over a month now, drawing more customers each week. Zhag had wangled a raise out of Milily, but not enough to keep his Gen fed, let alone clothed. The denims he wore today were practically threadbare.
In the public forum of Norlea’s market, Tonyo kept his nager carefully neutral. Nevertheless, when the boy stopped at a citrus stand Zhag sensed bristling annoyance in Sime customers. Tonyo picked up a lemon—
“You!” It was Zhag the proprietor addressed. “Make your Gen stop squeezing the fruit!”
Feeling outrage rolling off Tonyo, Zhag stepped between him and the vendor, saying, “He’s not my property.”
Zhag won a smile from Tonyo—but sneers from nearby Simes. One muttered, “Don’t look like Householders,” for Zhag referred to Tonyo with the pronoun for a male Sime...as, despite protests, he called the boy by the Simelan version of his name.
Zhag said, “Tonyo is a guest in Gulf Territory. Under the law he has the same rights as a Sime.”
“Shenned Tecton law!” said a woman in bright calico. “Can’t kill Gens anymore, but we don’t have to live with ‘em!”
Mutters of agreement were backed with nageric static. Tonyo, wide-eyed but with his field under tight control, put the fruit back and edged away.
Zhag shared the boy’s consternation: there were always Gens in Norlea’s streets. Usually they were ignored, but today the ambient nager rang with hostility. These juncts didn’t care where the boy came from—to them he was need denied.
Life denied.
Zhag had not killed for far longer than most Simes, nor did he want to. He had chosen another way two years before Tonyo wandered into Milily’s and brought that shining nager to brighten Zhag’s ever-bleaker existence.
Simes always gravitated toward Tonyo, but usually it was a positive response. The only Gens his age they saw were breeders on the Genfarms, Companions in the Householdings, or the few living with disjunct or nonjunct families. Until very recently, most in-Territory Gens were raised on Genfarms, sold for the kill as soon as they began producing selyn...and never allowed to learn Gen defenses against Sime attack.
While many Simes wished nothing had changed, most acknowledged that it had to: even by capturing Wild Gens, Sime Territory governments could not provide sufficient kills. Raids across the border brought retaliatory strikes by the Gen army. If nothing changed, eventually all the Gens would be killed...and the remaining Simes would die.
There was a solution: Simes called channels could take selyn from Gens without hurting them, and transfer it to other Simes so they did not have to kill. But for those addicted to the kill—the vast majority of Simes alive today—channel’s transfer meant never knowing true satisfaction again.
And...it meant an early death.
Zhag trailed Tonyo through the market. As long as his Gen was near, he could avoid feeling life draining heartbeat by heartbeat. But his comfort was an illusion—he would never draw Tonyo’s selyn, unless the boy became a Companion in a Householding. If he were ever tempted to attack the untrained boy...one or both of them would die. What a shidoni-doomed choice: to satisfy his selyn needs, he must give up the musical partner of a lifetime. But he had so little time—how could he part with the one thing that made life tolerable?
Besides, Tonyo had come to Gulf Sime Territory in pursuit of music. The way he told it, when he donated at Keon, the Householding near the north territory border, they had done everything short of locking him in a killroom to make him stay. So he had avoided Norlea’s Householding, Carre.
But those days were over. For now, the Genfarmer could sell his Gens’ selyn. But if, as the Tecton wanted and everyone else feared, Gens were made free citizens of Gulf Territory, they would be paid for their own selyn. The Genfarmer would lose his means of earning a living.
Verl, the Genfarmer, was a patron of Milily’s—but while he might appreciate Tonyo’s performance, Zhag could zlin that he didn’t like him acting as good as a Sime.
Tonyo chose the cheapest goods, but still had too little to cover the cost. If Milily would pay Tonyo—
Well, that was not going to happen. The boy counted out his coins, and Zhag handed him as much as he dared put toward Tonyo’s keep. The boy understood Selyn Taxes; he knew Zhag was not holding out.
With a frown, Tonyo set aside nut butter and cheese. Zhag said, “You require protein, Tonyo.”
“Pasta and rice are cheaper,” the boy said. “I’ll go fishing tomorrow—cook and eat ‘em down by the river, so you don’t have to zlin it.”
But you’ll be gone for hours! Zhag forced down panic. Tonyo’s field unconsciously locked onto his own, soothing and steady. “That’s...a good idea,” Zhag managed.
“We’ll talk about it later,” said Tonyo, and turned back to his purchase. Their funds would almost cover it now.
Selyn fields reflected emotions, not thoughts—Tonyo was making a decision, but Zhag assumed it was what else to put back. Then the Gen said, “Verl, we’re good customers. Let us have this for the money we have, and we’ll buy you a porstan next time you come into Milily’s.”
The worker Gen gasped. To suggest that a Gen buy a drink for a Sime— Even Zhag was shocked.
“Control your Gen!” Verl said through clenched teeth.
When Zhag made no move to discipline Tonyo, Verl added, “Get away from my stand. I don’t sell to Gens or Genlovers!”