I found the question too outrageous even to think about “I only felt I should warn you that matrix circle work could be dangerous if there was the slightest chance of pregnancy. Not so much for her, but for the unborn child. There have been gruesome tragedies. I felt I should warn you.”
“I should think you’d have done better to warn her,” he said, “but I appreciate your delicacy.” He gave me an odd, unreadable look and went away. Well, I had done no more than my duty in asking, and if the question distressed him, he would have to absorb and accept it, as I absorbed my frustration over Marjorie and accepted the way Thyra’s physical presence disturbed me. My dreams that night were disturbing, Thyra and Marjorie tangling into a single woman, so that again and again I would see one in dreams and suddenly discover it was the other. I should have recognized this as a sign of danger, but I only knew that when it was too late.
The next day was gray and lowering. I wondered if we would have to wait till spring for any really effective work. It might be better, giving us time to settle into our work together, perhaps find others to fit into the circle. Beltran and Kadarin would be impatient. Well, they would just have to master their impatience.
Marjorie looked cold and apprehensive; I felt the same way. A few lonesome snowflakes were drifting down, but I could not make the snow an excuse for putting off the experiment. Even Thyra’s high spirits were subdued.
I unwrapped the sword in which the matrix was hidden. The forge-folk must have done this; I wondered if they had known, even halfway, what they were doing. There were old traditions about matrices like this, installed in weapons. They came out of the Ages of Chaos, when, it is said, everything it’s possible to know about matrices was known, and our world nearly destroyed in consequence.
I said to Beltran, “It’s very dangerous to key into a matrix this size without a very definite end in mind. It must always be controlled or it will take control of us.”
Kadarin said, “You speak as if the matrix was a live thing.”
“I’m not so sure it’s not.” I gestured at the helicopter, standing about eighty feet away at the near edge of the deserted airfield, the snow faintly beginning to edge its tail and rotors. “What I mean is this. We cannot simply key into the matrix, say ‘fly’ and stand here watching that thing take off. We must know precisely how the mechanism works, in order to know precisely what forces we must exert, and in what directions. I suggest we begin by concentrating on turning the rotor blade mechanism and getting enough speed to lift it. We don’t really need a matrix this size for that, nor five workers. I could do it with this.” I touched the insulated bag which held my own. “But we must have some precise way of learning to direct forces. We will discover, then, how to lift the helicopter and, since we don’t want it to crash, we’ll limit ourselves to turning the rotors until it lifts a few inches, then gradually diminish the speed again until we set it down. Later we can try for direction and control in flight.” I turned to Beltran. “Will this demonstrate to the Terrans that psi power has material uses, so they’ll give us help in developing a way to use this for a stardrive?”
It was Kadarin who answered, “Hell yes! If I know the Terrans!”
Marjorie checked Rafe’s mittened hands. “Warm enough?” He pulled away indignantly, and she admonished, “Don’t be silly! Shivering uses up too much energy; you have to be able to concentrate!” I was pleased at her grasp of this. My own chill was mental, not physical. I placed Beltran at a little distance from the circle. I knew it was a bitter pill to swallow, that the twelve-year-old Rafe could be part of this and he could not, and I was intensely sorry for him, but the first necessity of matrix work was to know and accept for all time your own limitations. If he couldn’t, be had no business within a mile of the circle.