Zelerod's Doom Read online

  THE SIME~GEN SERIES FROM THE BORGO PRESS

  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 Jacqueline Lichtenberg Books from Wildside:

  City of a Million Legends

  Molt Brother

  COPYRIGHT INFORMATION

  Copyright © 1986 by Jacqueline Lichtenberg & Jean Lorrah

  Copyright © 2011 by Sime~Gen, Inc.

  Published by Wildside Press LLC

  www.wildsidebooks.com

  DEDICATION

  My work on this book is dedicated to Katie Filipowicz Steinhoff, the first stranger to write me a fan letter on my first novel. House of Zeor, the prequel to Zelerod’s Doom. For ten years she has been insisting I write the rest of the story of Hugh and Klyd. When I went to Kentucky to stay with Jean and finish this book, Katie took her vacation and came to work with us on it, slaving tirelessly, even over the Fourth of July and her birthday.

  And through Katie, this book is dedicated to all the enthusiasts of the Sime~Gen Universe who would have done the same in Katie’s place.

  If you’re willing to look at the universe from other peoples’ points of view and provide them what they need to survive, if you’re willing to embrace your adversary, if you can’t believe anybody could be so stupid, so careless, or so cold hearted, then Zelerod’s Doom is for you because you have made this book happen.

  Now, in 2011 both Jean Lorrah and I thank Ronnie Bob Whitaker for scanning and OCRing this material.

  Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Murray, Kentucky

  July, 1984 (updated 2011 in Arizona)

  My dedication is also to Katie Filipowicz, for yeoman service above and beyond the call of friendship. Katie gave up a real vacation to be caught in the middle between two squabbling authors breaking their necks to beat a deadline and at the same time create the best book possible. She slaved at the word processor, tolerated our fussing, and is single-handedly (or actually double-handedly, as she is a touch-typist) responsible for the first version’s getting done by deadline. Every writer should have a Katie!

  I would also like to dedicate it to the hundreds of fans who have helped to shape the Sime~Gen universe with their comments and encouragement. We would like to have your comments on this book, too please contact us (2011 you’ll find us via simegen.com, jeanlorrah.com, jacquelinelichtenberg.com, facebook, twitter, google)

  Jean Lorrah

  Murray, Kentucky

  July, 1984 (updated 2011)

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  2011

  Once again and again, we thank Ronnie Bob Whitaker for scanning these novels for electronic distribution, and Robert Reginald at Borgo Press for unrelenting detail work, as well as John Betancourt at Wildside Press for creating an amazing publishing house.

  We also thank Karen MacLeod for editing as well as Patric Michael and all the many folks who’ve contributed to simegen.com

  Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Jean Lorrah

  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

  Sime~Gen:

  where a mutation makes the evolutionary

  division into male and female

  pale by comparison.

  CHAPTER ONE

  UNWELCOME VISITORS

  Hugh Valleroy could not believe his eyes.

  On the field before him, scarlet, gold, green, and purple tents and pavilions were being raised. Thousands of people in holiday finery trampled the mud. Horses, wagons, carts, and even dogs were decked in red ribbons. Aromas of strange foods spread through the morning air. The noise increased by the minute as more and more people arrived.

  After the beige world of the gypsy wagons, the gaudy display of Gulf Territory’s famous Spring Fair seemed more like a Choice Auction than a trade fair. Valleroy turned to the man beside him, and asked only half rhetorically, “Klyd, are you sure this is where we’re supposed to meet her?”

  Klyd Farris, Head of the House of Zeor and official emissary of the Nivet Territory Tecton, snapped, “Of course I’m sure! Must you question everything—”

  Valleroy schooled his concentration to give Klyd a bubble of peace amid the riotous emotion. Valleroy was here as Klyd’s Companion, to protect the trained sensitivities of the channel.

  The moment Valleroy went to work, Klyd sighed and waved a hand in a helpless little gesture, two dorsal tentacles emerging from the orifices near his wrist in graceful emphasis. “Sorry.”

  “My fault,” replied Valleroy. Klyd was a Sime, visually indistinguishable from Gens like Valleroy except for the tiny, whipcord strong tentacles.

  But that one modification of the human form bespoke a world of inward differences, such as the Sime senses, one of which allowed a Sime to perceive life energy fields.

  Klyd sighed. “Let’s not argue. We’ve got to find her.”

  A third member of their embassy, Ediva ambrov Dar, emerged from the gypsy wagon behind them. Eight years younger than Valleroy, she was renSime, not a channel like Klyd. Ediva was the foremost mathematician of her generation, successor to the famous Zelerod. In fact, their journey was a result of her crusade to convince the world that Zelerod’s Doom was at hand.

  Wearing a full-length ceremonial cape of Householding Dar’s colors, deep blue-green and gray, she carried a cascade of brilliant blue material: Klyd’s cape. She was almost as tall as the two men, not as broad shouldered, but strong in the wiry, Sime way. “Sectuib Farris, Sosectu Rior,” she greeted cheerfully, “even though it
’s so warm here, shouldn’t we wear our Householding cloaks?”

  Back home, people would still be bundled up in woolen capes against the last sharp winds of winter, here in Gulf Territory the grass was already green, trees budding, some in bloom. On the teeming field, many workers wore the colors of the two Gulf Territory Householdings, Keon and Carre.

  Klyd took his cloak from Ediva’s shoulder, revealing one beneath it, Rior’s flame orange touched with Zeor’s distinctive blue. Rior, Valleroy’s House, was a daughter house of Zeor.

  Valleroy took his cape, and Ediva’s eyes met his. They’d had no privacy on the trip, and he was sure she also felt that as a deprivation, soon to be remedied. The thought warmed him in a way he hadn’t felt since his wife had died.

  Still holding eye contact with Ediva, he kept his professional attention on Klyd. Abruptly, Klyd turned to scan the scene behind Valleroy. “Kitty,” he called, “have you found her?”

  Valleroy turned to find Kitty ambrov Rior approaching with a businesslike stride, her Rior cloak billowing out behind her. She was a Gen he had trained himself to move confidently among Simes. In the intimacy of those years, just after his wife had died, Kitty had become infatuated with him, and he had mistaken it for love. Two things had come of it—their son, Jesse, now six years old, and Kitty’s more mature realization that it was the ideals of Rior, not Valleroy himself, that had captured her love and devotion.

  “Sectuib Farris,” replied Kitty when she was close enough, “the Sectuib Keon is in the infirmary tent. They said she’s expecting you, and you could go right in.” She glanced at Ediva, clearly aware of the unspoken attraction Valleroy felt. A hint of a smile danced over her face, and Valleroy knew she was letting Ediva read with her Sime senses that Kitty was no rival for Valleroy’s affection.

  “Hugh!” said Klyd, sharply calling Valleroy’s attention back to business. Then he strode into the maelstrom of color and sound, his cape flapping behind him.

  “Kitty,” said Valleroy, “see if you can get things organized here. We’ll be right back. Come on, Ediva.” Valleroy took off after Klyd, catching up as he worked his way through a crowd of Simes. He put an inconspicuous fingertip on Klyd’s elbow. “It’s not wise for Gens to run among junct Simes.” Juncts were those Simes—the majority—who killed Gens for selyn, the life energy Gens produced and Simes had to have to live. Such Simes regarded Gens like Hugh and Kitty as their legitimate prey...and this fair would certainly be teeming with them.

  Klyd slowed and curiously scanned the people about them. “Hugh, there’s something very strange here.”

  They were passing a gaudy purple and green tent with red and gold triangular pennants flapping merrily. A small band was tuning up, and tables and chairs were being set out. At one side planks were propped on sawhorses to form a bar.

  As they paused to watch, Ediva commented, “Shiltpron music mixed with porstan—and Gens?”

  More than half the workers were Gens, but not slaves or drug-deadened pen inmates. They were young, bright, laughing, high on enthusiasm, teasing the Simes who worked with them as if unaware of the danger of provoking a Sime to kill. Risa, Sectuib ambrov Keon, had claimed that Gulf Territory was rapidly approaching the lifestyle of a territory-wide Householding. Could it be true?

  Studying the ambient of that tent, Klyd said, “No Companions. No channels. Except for the woman directing them, the Simes are junct, but the Gens are low field. Some channel has taken their selyn in donation. No Simes are in need. I doubt if there’ll be any incidents—but—”

  Yes. But, thought Valleroy. Anything that either startled or caused pain to one of those untrained Gens could provoke a junct Sime to the kill—draining the Gen’s system of life energy so brutally that he died in agony, nerves burnt out. Close friendship, even love, could not prevent Sime instinct from turning on a Gen, given sufficient provocation. “Something else to ask this Sectuib Risa ambrov Keon about.”

  “Charge her with, I’d say,” answered Klyd. As he spoke, a wagon backed up to the pavilion to unload porstan kegs. Two Simes leaped onto the heap of kegs and tossed them down to a pair of Simes who stacked them behind the bar. Kegs flew through the air in a steady arc. All four Simes augmented—used extra selyn to strengthen their muscles—as if Gens were so cheap that each Sime could kill two a month.

  Ediva shuddered. “Negligent! No, criminal! I’d like to take her apart with my bare hands!” Ediva was disjunct. She had accomplished the agonizing withdrawal from the kill to join Householding Dar. In the Householdings, channels like Klyd took selyn from Gens without hurting them, and gave it to the renSimes, who could thus live without killing.

  At Dar, Ediva had learned of Zelerod’s Doom. The mathematician Zelerod had discovered through statistical analysis that with Simes living longer and therefore killing more Gens, the point would come within a few generations when the Sime and Gen populations would be equal. The Simes would kill the remaining Gens in order to survive and die of selyn attrition when there were no more Gens. Humanity’s only alternative was to live as Householders lived.

  Valleroy was not so sure that what he saw about him was “criminal.” It was obviously possible for Gens to interact much more freely with Simes than they did in Nivet Territory, perhaps possible for any Gen to give Simes selyn directly, given the proper attitude and training. Klyd and other Tecton leaders, though, would not hear of such experimentation, pointing to centuries of statistics on Sime/Gen intimacies with horrifying rates of failure. But much had been learned over the last few decades. The Tecton, the organization of Nivet Territory Householdings which had sent Klyd on this mission, was Sime-dominated and overprotective toward Gens. Perhaps the Gulf Territory Householding organization—if only two Houses could form an organization—was different.

  Ediva turned away from the flying beer kegs, repelled, and Klyd called after her, “Ediva, wait! We mustn’t jump to conclusions. We’re strangers here. We might not know what we’re zlinning!”

  Good, thought Valleroy, hurrying after them. Maybe seeing Sime/Gen interaction in operation will open his mind.

  In the center of the fair grounds stood a huge mortared brick hemisphere cupped around a rusting heap of iron. A plaque bore an inscription in oddly curled script. THIS BLAST FURNACE IS PRESERVED IN MEMORY OF THE FIRST PROFITABLE PARTNERSHIP BETWEEN KEON AND LAVEEN. TO FREEDOM THROUGH COOPERATION.

  Klyd circled the monument, Valleroy following, to find a white tent, its round green and red flags marking it as a dispensary and hospital. “See there?” prompted Klyd, pointing with two tentacles, “The infirmary is well staffed and large enough. That’s not negligence.”

  The white tent swarmed with channels and Companions wearing Keon and Carre colors. A wagon unloaded cots and bedding at the rear of the tent. Gens made up beds while Simes arranged bricks for a hearth.

  Klyd circled the tent, gesturing Valleroy to keep his distance as Klyd zlinned with Sime senses for the distinctive nager—selyn field—of a channel such as Risa Tigue must be.

  “She’s not here,” he announced with a shrug.

  “There’s the Keon Pavilion,” pointed Valleroy. It was easily the largest tent at the fair—bright red and white—set across a broad avenue formed by tents and stalls. And it was already in full operation. “Let’s try there,” he added leading the way.

  Before they reached the open awning shading the front of the pavilion, Klyd confirmed, “She’s there!” He cut through the line of customers waiting to go in, stomped the mud off his boots on the matting provided, and said to the guards, “Sectuib Keon is expecting us.”

  The pavilion was made of alternating strips of solid red and translucent white, giving the interior a warm pinkish glow. Glass cases displayed intricately wrought jewelry, decorated household items, and a series of plaques identifying Arensti design awards. Precious and semi-precious gems, gold, silver, and assorted burnished alloys created effects from gaudy to infinitely refined. But the overwhelming impression was “rich.” Some display c
ases did not have protective glass. Many things were out in the open to be handled—or stolen. A few clerks roamed behind the counters or helped customers but most of them were Gen—incapable of zlinning the intention to steal, or a quick hand movement behind their backs.

  The place was not crowded. A new customer was admitted only when someone left. But there were more Simes, Gens and even children roaming about than the few clerks could watch. Risa Tigue once again seemed a foolish manager.

  Valleroy noticed a young man—a boy no more than fifteen, but obviously established as a Gen—standing near a case of gleaming jewelry. He wore a Householding ring displaying Keon’s ruby crest. He was tall, with striking blue eyes that lighted on the visitors at once, but Valleroy was not sure why he noticed the boy until he realized Klyd was signaling him. Valleroy turned to the channel, to protect him from the Keon Gen’s nager. Anything might irritate Klyd at the moment.

  The boy stepped forward with a formal bow. “Keon extends greetings to Zeor, Dar, and...? Please forgive me for not recognizing your Householding, Naztehr,” he said to Valleroy, who saw him note the white lining of both his cloak and Klyd’s, and frown in puzzlement. But he asked no question which might offend.

  “Rior,” Valleroy supplied. “We have come to meet with Risa, Sectuib in Keon.”

  “We’re expecting you. You are most welcome. I am Morgan Kreg ambrov Keon, Second Companion. Please come this way.”

  They found the Sectuib in Keon at the back of the pavilion a tiny woman with dark hair in a neat coil at the back of her neck, and pale, freckled skin. Although Valleroy knew she had to be in her mid-thirties, she looked as if she were hardly out of First Year.

  But her attitude was that of a woman grown and fully in control. “This flour is spoiled,” she was saying to the abashed Gen before her. She dipped a delicate hand into the sack, and Valleroy smelled a yeasty odor. “Either you were cheated, or you are trying to cheat me.”

  “Or both,” put in a nearby Sime, a middle-aged man with iron-gray hair, dressed in a tailored business suit at odds with the casual dress of the rest of the fair-goers. But it was his eyes, not his attire, that caught Valleroy’s attention. A strange air of calm overlay a hidden sadness in their depths—an expression Valleroy had never seen before today, but which had looked out at him time and again from the eyes of older Simes they had passed on the fair grounds.