He looked at Nona. She had conjured a nightslip to sleep in, and it was pink and frilly. Dawn had not yet come, and it was dark in their camping structure, but of course he had good night vision. Part of the blanket had turned back, and the woman's right breast pushed firmly against the thin material of the slip, outlining itself. He wished she would ask him to stroke her there, to kiss her and indulge her sexually, but of course that was irrelevant. He had been crafted, like all male nulls, to be continuously potent, so that a mistress could have sex as long and hard as her whim dictated. Because desire was a significant component of performance for a male, he did have desire. That was why unassigned nulls humped dissimilar nulls; the males desired, and the females often liked to stay in practice. Lack of experience was no excuse for failure to please a master. They understood each other perfectly, and of course sexual relations between nulls were of no account. But he could never ask a mistress; it had to be solely at her command. No matter how much he might long to.
Nona's eyes opened and she looked at him, though she could not actually see him in the darkness. She knew where he was by his mind. And she knew his mind. She had caught him thinking, desiring her. He was chagrined; he should not have allowed himself to think those thoughts in her presence. It was akin to asking.
Seqiro, she thought. Please give us a closed loop.
Tom's chagrin worsened. She was annoyed and was going to rebuke him, and it was justified. How could he have been so careless? He had allowed himself to forget his place. In DoOon, with no telepathy, it would have been permissible, but here it was not.
"No, Tom," she said. "It is permissible. You are being true to your nature, in a situation for which you were not designed. You cannot be faulted for that." She spoke aloud to focus her superficial thoughts, and the closed loop meant that no one other than Tom would hear either voice or thoughts. The mental power of the horse was phenomenal.
"I am culpable," Tom replied. "I knew my thoughts could be read. I thought you were asleep, and I became careless."
"I was asleep," she said. "Your thoughts woke me."
Still worse! He had disturbed her repose. "I should be punished."
"Tom, you must understand this. I traveled with Seqiro before we came to your Mode. I became accustomed to the linkage of minds. I came to know directly what I had always known indirectly: I am sexually desirable to men. Some have imagined quite thorough handling and penetration of my body. Colene has encountered that too, but she blocks it out because of prior bad experience. She can't tolerate it, even in thought, but I can. I can give myself sexually when I choose, and it is my hope one day to so choose, when I encounter the right man. So I am neither annoyed nor embarrassed by your desire. It is normal."
"But I must not indicate it to you!" Tom protested. "It must always be suppressed, unless you command that it be expressed, and then only to the degree specified."
"In the DoOon Mode that is the case; I understand. But this is a different realm, with other conventions. Here, you are a person, with personal rights."
"I am a null. I can be nothing other than that."
"You are also a human being."
"No. I am merely a null."
Her thought was of amused impatience. Kiss me.
He got down and put his lips to hers. He would have obeyed such a command regardless of his personal feeling. Her arms came up and caught his head, drawing his face into her face. She kissed him, deliciously hard.
She let him go. He lay beside her, his pulse racing, his eye slits involuntarily dilated.
"You are a human being," she repeated. "A human male. Your creation and your culture have set severe limits on you, and made you catlike, but you are a man."
"I am a man," he agreed, still stunned by the kiss.
"You therefore owe no apology for your man thoughts. Your actions are controlled, and that's what counts."
"You are kind."
"Tom, you're a good man. I believe I would enjoy sex with you, because your lust is buttressed by genuine love. The reason I do not indulge is that it is in my nature, fostered by my gender and my culture, to regard sex as a form of commitment. Were I inclined to commit to you, I would take pleasure in indulging your physical passion for me. In fact I am more than casually tempted, but I restrain myself lest I imply such commitment. Do you understand?"
"No. You may do with me what you wish, without commitment. Past mistresses have used me intensely and discarded me at their convenience. This is your prerogative."
"I know you believe that, Tom. I could tell you to have sex with me, and then to go away forever, and you would do your best to obey. But this is not the way I am. I will not have sex with you unless I am ready to commit to an extended relationship with you."
"There is no need!"
"Yes there is need, Tom. I must treat you as the human man you are. Therefore I say, think your thoughts in my presence, without embarrassment. I am as I am and you are as you are, and we must both be satisfied with that."
"Thank you, Nona." He was profoundly grateful for her tolerance.
"Now let's get up and see what we can do for the morning." Seqiro, we're done.
They got up and went to the section of the structure reserved for sanitation. Nona dissolved her nightdress, conjured water into a basin, and used a cloth to clean her lovely body. Then she conjured a daytime dress and went out to conjure food for them all for breakfast. Tom watched all of this with amazed pleasure; he had not before seen this extent of her magic. She was a phenomenally gifted woman.
"But you loved me before my magic returned," she said. "You would love me if I lost it all."
"Of course."
"In my home Mode I could not be certain any man would love me merely for myself. I have too much power. That's one reason I fled it."
"I don't care about power."
"I know that, Tom. I value that in you."
The others got up, and all of them ate except Burgess, whose eating was continuous. Then they organized for the morning's task: helping Colene's mother. Colene and Darius emerged from the house, being the "house guests," and the others gathered around.
"Amos won't be here till afternoon," Colene said, "so that gives us the day to get this done. We'll get a taxi to the med office and see the supervisor. I figure he'll be a tough nut, so I think we'll need Nona for some special effects."
"I don't think I'd better ask what you are going to do with that supervisor," Darius said wryly.
Colene turned a mock-innocence look on him. "I won't do anything to him—if he doesn't make me mad."
"He has already angered you."
"But he can pacify me, by doing what I want."
"Better take Tom too, to as a rearguard."
Colene looked at her posterior. "Why, is it sagging?"
He spanked it. "No. It remains firm."
"Brute." But her pleasure in indulging in such borderline sex-play was clear. Also her associated regret: that play was as far as she could take it.
The taxi turned out to be one of the wheeled vehicles, operated by a surly man. Colene gave him some of the money she had gotten from Forell, and he drove them to the building where the office was. Earth was rather spread out and haphazard compared to the civilized planets of DoOon, but it seemed to function well enough for its level.
"Here's the thing," Colene said as they rode. "I want to get better medication for Mom and get it approved once and for all, so she doesn't have trouble after I go. But I don't know exactly what she needs. So I need to pick the brain of that supervisor to find out what's the very best, then make him approve it. I figure I can put a thought into his mind that it's been approved, but he might renege when he thought about it later. So I figure to shake him up some, to take his mind off the approval. How's that sound?"
"I hesitate to comment," Nona said. "This is not my culture."
Colene turned to Tom. "You're male. You know how to fight, right?"
"Yes."
"Think of this as a b
attle. Is it a good approach?"
"No."
Colene smiled. "You're trained to answer only the question, and not to presume. Okay. What's a better way?"
"First reconnoiter. Ascertain what medications are available without revealing your real purpose. Then, armed with that knowledge, approach the supervisor and require him to approve the best one in a manner that can't be readily reversed."
"Spy, then strike, right? I like it. How's it sound to you, Seqiro?"
Tom Feline has a reasonable strategy.
"You males always back each other up. But how do I spy?"
Tom considered. He liked being asked for advice. "Perhaps if you indicated that you were a patient in need of medication—"
"Won't work. This stuff isn't voluntary. I can't just walk in and ask for it. But maybe Nona could play my mother, and that would do it."
They worked it out. Then, at the front of the building, they walked in. As they walked, Nona clothed them with illusion. She became an older woman, somewhat severe of feature, and Tom became a similarly older man, somewhat portly. They were to be Colene's parents. Colene did not change, other than in expression: she put on a dark, willful face.
They went to a desk, guided by Colene's knowledge of the way things worked on Earth. "We need help for our daughter," Nona said. Her command of the local dialect was not perfect, but Colene and Seqiro translated it into perfection in the mind of the woman at the desk. "She's out of control. She tries to kill herself."
"Are you covered by our policy?" the woman asked.
"Yes." Colene projected a thought: they had just shown the woman the policy, and it was in order.
"She will have to be tested."
Another projection: the testing had been completed, and the diagnosis was Severely Depressive. "We have tried her on medication," Nona said. "But it has side effects, such as hallucination. We need a change."
"I will make an appointment for Dr. Danforth." The woman checked her listing. "He has an opening next month."
"Next month!" Colene flared. Then she recovered, and focused another thought. Cancel that outburst; it didn't happen. Our appointment is for right now.
The woman blinked. "You are just in time for your appointment," she said. She gave them the office number.
They took the elevator, which was another interesting if archaic device: a mechanical lift. They were alone for the moment. "This isn't as smooth as I thought it would be," Colene said. "But maybe we can get what we need from this Danforth character."
Tom had to marvel at the way she was cutting through the evident bureaucracy of this establishment. She was finding her way rapidly.
"Thanks, Dad," Colene said.
He kept forgetting about the mind reading! Which was ridiculous, since they were using it constantly.
Dr. Danforth was a harried-looking man of indeterminate age. It seemed that he had to see so many patients, so rapidly, that he could not keep track of them. He did not realize that this one was out of turn. That was perfect for their purposes. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked.
Nona described the symptoms, which were Colene's own, with her mother's hallucinations added. The doctor hesitated, but Colene impatiently cut through this too. "Just tell us the very best treatment available," she said, projecting a compliance thought.
Faced with this command, the doctor did comply, in his fashion. "Your description is not sufficient to identify the specific form of depression, and this makes a difference in treatment. I am not clear whether it is melancholic or atypical or one of the others. What is proper treatment for one is not necessarily so for the others."
Tom caught Colene's worried thought: despite her own depression, she had no idea how it might be classified, and didn't have time to figure it out. "That first one—what's the best treatment for it?"
"Melancholic depression. That is associated with hyperarousal in the brain, perhaps a chronic stress response that can't be turned off. That makes it hard for the patient to eat or sleep. RTMS seems most promising, though it remains experimental."
Colene nodded. "Close enough. Give me that one."
He looked at her. "My dear, this is not a pill. The letters stand for Rapid Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation. Put simply, a powerful magnet delivers an electric jolt to the brain. This causes many neurons to fire at once, and this seems in turn to reset the rate at which the brain releases the chemicals involved in depression. Two weeks of RTMS treatments significantly help the vast majority, and the effect seems to be long-lasting. However—"
"I'll try it."
Tom, Nona, and the doctor all tried to protest, for different reasons. It was Colene's mother she was supposed to be inquiring for, not herself.
Colene turned back to them. "I need it too," she said. "If this big magnet can make me happy, I can maybe get across the Virtual Mode. And if it works on me, maybe it'll work on my mother too. So I'll test it for her."
Then she faced the doctor. "Thanks, Doc. You've been a big help. Now forget this session ever happened." She sent a forceful thought.
Dr. Danforth looked bemused as they left his office. He might not forget completely, but since they had been unscheduled and had left no record of their visit, he would find it easy to assume that his memory was confused.
"Now for that supervisor," Colene said. "What was his name—Gollins. Dr. Gollins. In another office on this floor." She set off for that office, and they followed somewhat helplessly.
Again, they had no appointment. Again Colene crashed through the social or procedural barriers, and they came to stand before Dr. Gollins. "I want RTMS," Colene said. "And my mother after me, assuming it works on me."
"But this is preposterous!" Gollins protested. "That is an expensive, experimental, unauthorized procedure not covered by our program."
"Authorize it," Colene said, sending a command thought.
But the supervisor's resistance to expense merely because of need was formidable. "This is impossible!"
Colene studied him. "I had hoped you would say something like that. You're the one who can live with a patient's hallucinations brought on by the side effects of wrong medication. Now I have an excuse to show you what that means."
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Nona, show him the Virtual Mode."
Nona was ready. Her power of illusion manifested, making the office walls disappear. In their place appeared a scene from the trek they had recently made, barren wastes through which a group of people walked—and disappeared, one by one. Then reappeared as the viewpoint person crossed the boundary behind them. And disappeared.
Dr. Gollins rubbed his eyes. "This is impossible."
Suddenly there was a restless sea. A truly weird creature—Burgess—floated across it, carrying a person. Then there was a drop-off, and a quick trek to the puzzle Modes, and the power plankton Modes, with their erratic explosions.
The doctor lurched to his feet, trying to escape what he saw. He collided with a wall he couldn't see. "This is impossible!" he exclaimed, looking wildly around.
End, Colene thought to Nona. The illusion vanished. The office was back.
"You look as if you'd seen a hallucination," Colene said sweetly. "I can live with that."
Tom, receiving the context from her mind, labored to suppress his laughter. Colene was getting back at the man who had been callous to her mother.
"What happened?" the man asked wildly.
"It doesn't matter," Colene said evenly. "All you need to know is that it will all go away once you approve those RTMS treatments and they are done. If you don't, you'll be seeing more hallucinations."
But Dr. Gollins was recovering his equilibrium. "Ridiculous."
Colene lifted her left hand in a signal to Nona. A scene on Planet Chains appeared, with the dragon pouncing on a Feline and killing him. It was so astonishingly realistic it made Tom recoil. That was the way it had been, before Colene made the pact with the dragons.
At the same time,
Colene sent another compliance thought. "I'll do it!" the supervisor said desperately.
"Good," Colene said. "If you do, you will never see us again. Now make out the papers for these names and dates." She gave the key information, and the supervisor made hasty notes.
They left. "But won't he renege later?" Nona asked. "After all, there will be questions, if that treatment really is unauthorized."
"He's not stupid. If he even tries to tell anyone about what happened, he'll lose his job. He'll keep his mouth shut—and will make sure we're satisfied. Or else. He knows how to do it."
They returned to the house. Colene walked into Pussy's embrace. "I'm going to have an experimental treatment. I'm scared."
And she was. She had carried through without flinching, but now that it was arranged, she was frightened.
Nona conjured food for lunch. It was fancier than prior meals had been, because the increased presence of Seqiro's mind enabled her to draw on more of her magic.
When her parents returned, Colene explained things to her mother, who was astonished but gratified. Then Forell arrived with a portable computer and camera.
They got busy. It took time to connect the computer in the backyard, and to set up the camera on its tripod, and to integrate the software. But Forell knew what he was doing, and in due course succeeded in making the first video photograph of the illusion picture of a tiny insect. "This is an entirely common and ordinary bug," he said, pleased, "but it proves the technique. Now I must train one of you to operate the system, so that you can continue the survey during my absence."
"Tom can do it," Colene said.
"Me?" Tom was startled.
"You can pick it up by mind transfer from Amos. Nona and Burgess have other jobs, and Cat's helping them orient on the bugs. Darius and Pussy will be gone to Oklahoma City to steady me through my magnetic treatments. That leaves you."
"I will do it, of course, if I am competent."
"What is this about magnetic treatments?" Forell asked Colene.
"RTMS. I'm hoping it will make me happy."
Forell clearly knew what she was talking about. "How on Earth did you get approval for such rarefied treatment?"