Authors: Anne McCaffrey
He regarded her with disbelief for a moment, but then, with an unexpected tenderness and concern reflected in his expression, he moved an arm around her shoulders and, despite her initial resistance, drew himself against her.
“My dear girl, what happened to you today?”
A moment before, she would have swallowed glass shards rather than confide in anyone. But the warmth in his voice, his solicitude, were so timely and unexpected that the whole of her personal disaster came tumbling out. He listened to every word, occasionally squeezing her hand in sympathy. But at the end of the recital, she was amazed to see the fullness in his eyes as tears threatened to embarrass her.
“My dear Killashandra, what can I say? There’s no possible consolation for such a personal catastrophe as that! And there you were”—his eyes shone with what Killashandra chose to interpret as admiration—“having a bottle of wine as coolly as a queen. Or”—and he leaned over her, grinning maliciously—“were you just gathering enough courage to step under a shuttle?” He kept hold of her hand which, at his outrageous suggestion, she tried to free. “No, I can see that suicide was furthest from
your
mind.” She subsided at the implicit compliment. “Although”—and his expression altered thoughtfully—“you might inadvertently have succeeded if that shuttle had been allowed to take off again. If I hadn’t been here to stop it—” He flashed her his charmingly reprehensible smile.
“You’re full of yourself, aren’t you?” Her accusation was said in jest, for she found his autocratic manner an irresistible contrast to anyone of her previous acquaintance.
He grinned unrepentantly and nodded toward the remains of their exotic snack. “Not without justification, dear girl. But look, you’re free of commitments right now, aren’t you?” She hesitantly, nodded. “Or is there someone you’ve been seeing?” He asked that question almost savagely, as if he’d eliminate any rival.
Later, Killashandra might remember how adroitly Carrik had handled her, preying on her unsettled state of mind, on her essential femininity, but that tinge of jealousy was highly complimentary, and the eagerness in his eyes, in his hands, was not feigned.
“No one to matter or miss me.”
Carrik looked so skeptical that she reminded him that she’d devoted all her energies to singing.
“Surely not all?” He mocked her dedication.
“No one to matter,” she repeated firmly.
“Then I will make an honest invitation to you. I’m an off-worlder on holiday. I don’t have to be back to the Guild till—well”—and he have a nonchalant shrug—“when I wish. I’ve all the credits I need. Help me spend them. It’ll purge you of the music college.”
She looked squarely at him, for their acquaintanceship was so brief and hectic that she simply hadn’t had time to consider him a possible companion. Nor did she quite trust him. She was both attracted to and repelled by his domineering, high-handed manner, and yet he represented a challenge to her. He was certainly the exact opposite of the young men she had thus far encountered on Fuerte.
“We don’t have to stay on this mudball, either.”
“Then why did you come?”
He laughed. “I’m told I haven’t been on Fuerte before. I can’t say that it lives up to its name, or maybe you’ll live up to the name for it? Oh come now, Killashandra,” he said when she bridled. “Surely you’ve been flirted with before? Or have music students changed so much since my day?”
“You studied music?”
An odd shadow flickered through his eyes. “Probably. I don’t rightly remember. Another time, another life perhaps.” Then his charming smile deepened, and a warmth entered his expression that she found rather unsettling. “Tell me, what’s on this planet that’s fun to do?”
Killashandra considered for a moment and then blinked. “You know, I haven’t an earthly?”
“Then we’ll find out together.”
What with the wine, his adept cajolery, and her own recklessness, Killashandra could not withstand the temptation. She ought to do many things, she knew, but “ought” had been exiled someplace during the second bottle of that classic vintage. After spending the rest of the night nestled in Carrik’s arms in the most expensive accommodation of the spaceport hostelry, Killashandra decided she would suspend duty for a few days and be kind to the charming visitor.
The vidifax printout chattered as it popped out dozens of cards on the resorts of Fuerte, more than she had ever suspected. She had never water skied, so Carrik decided they’d both try that. He ordered a private skimmer to be ready within the hour. As he sang cheerily at the top of a good, rich bass voice, floundering about in the elegant sunken bathtub of the suite, Killashandra recalled some vestige of self-preserving shrewdness and tapped out a few discreet inquiries on the console.
1234/az . . .
CRYSTAL SINGER . . . A COLLOQUIAL GALACTIC EUPHEMISM REFERRING TO MEMBERS OF THE HEPTITE GUILD, BALLYBRAN, WHO MINE CRYSTAL RANGES UNIQUE TO THAT PLANET. REF: BALLYBRAN, REGULUS SYSTEM, A-S-F/128/4. ALSO CRYSTAL MINING, CRYSTAL TECHNOLOGY, ‘BLACK QUARTZ’ COMMUNICATIONS. WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED LANDING ON BALLYBRAN INTERDICTED BY FEDERATED SENTIENT PLANETS, SECTION 907, CODE 4, PARAGRAPHS 78–90.
The landing prohibition surprised Killashandra. She tried to recall details from her obligatory secondary school course on FSP Rights and Responsibilities. The 900 Section had to do with life forms, she thought, and the Code 4 suggested considerable danger.
She tapped out the section, code, and paragraphs and was awarded a request for
Need to Know?
As she couldn’t think of one at the moment, she went to the planetary reference, and the display rippled across the screen.
BALLYBRAN: FIFTH PLANET OF THE SUN, SCORIA, REGULUS SECTOR: THREE SATELLITES; AUTHORIZED LANDING POINT, FIRST MOON, SHANKILL; STANDARD LIFE-SUPPORT BASE, COMMERCIAL AND TRANSIENT ACCOMMODATIONS. NO UNAUTHORIZED PLANETARY LANDINGS: SECTION 907, CODE 4, PARAGRAPHS 78-90. SOLE AUTHORITY: HEPTITE GUILD, MOON BASE, SHANKILL.
Then she followed dense lines of data on the spectral analysis of Scoria and its satellites, Ballybran being the only one that rated considerable print-out, which Killashandra could, in part, interpret. Ballybran had a gravity slightly lower than galactic norm for human adaptability, a breathable atmosphere, more oceans than land mass, tidal complications caused by three moons, as well as an exotic meteorology stimulated by sunspot activity on the primary.
PRINCIPAL INDUSTRIES: (1) BALLYBRAN CRYSTALS (2) THERAPEUTIC WATERS.
1) BALLYBRAN LIVING CRYSTAL VARIES IN DENSITY, COLOR, AND LONGEVITY AND IS UNIQUE TO THE PLANET. VITAL TO THE PRODUCTION OF CONTROL ELEMENTS IN LASERS; AS A MATERIAL FOR INTEGRATED CIRCUIT SUBSTRATES (OF THE LADDER HIERARCHY); POSITRONIC ROBOTICS; AS TRANSDUCERS FOR ELECTROMAGNETIC RADIATION (FUNDAMENTALS OF 20 KHZ AND 500 KHZ WITH AUDIO SECONDARIES AND HARMONICS IN THE LOWER FREQUENCIES) AND HEAT TRANSDUCERS; AS OPTHERIAN SOUND RELAYS AND MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS; BLUE TETRAHEDRONS ARE A CRUCIAL PART IN TACHYON DRIVE SYSTEMS.
“BLACK” QUARTZ, A PHENOMENON LIMITED TO BALLYBRAN, IS THE CRITICAL ELEMENT OF INSTANTANEOUS INTERSTELLAR COMMUNICATION, HAVING THE ABILITY TO FOLD SPACE, OVER ANY DISTANCE, SO THAT MAGNETICALLY, ELECTRICALLY, AND, AS FAR AS IS KNOWN, OPTICALLY, THERE IS NO EFFECTIVE SEPARATION BETWEEN TWO COUPLED RESONATING SEGMENTS REGARDLESS OF THE ACTUAL DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM.
TIMING ACCURACY OVER A DISTANCE OF 500 LIGHT-YEARS HAS PRODUCED CONSISTENT ACCURACY OF 1 X 10
-6
OF THE CESIUM ATOM TIME STANDARD.
BLACK QUARTZ IS CAPABLE OF ACHIEVING SIMULTANEOUS SYNCHRONIZATION WITH TWO OTHER SEGMENTS AND SO PROVIDES A RING-LINK BACKUP SYSTEM. FOR EXAMPLE, WITH SIX QUARTZ SEGMENTS, A TO F, A IS LINKED TO C, D, & E; B IS LINKED TO C, E, & F . . .
That was more than she ever wanted to know about black quartz communications, Killashandra thought as diagrams and computations scrolled across the screen, so she pressed on to more interesting data. She slowed the display when she noticed the heading “Membership” and reversed to the start of that entry.
CURRENT MEMBERSHIP OF THE HEPTITE GUILD ON BALLYBRAN IS 4425, INCLUDING INACTIVE MEMBERS, BUT THE NUMBER FLUCTUATES CONSIDERABLY DUE TO OCCUPATIONAL HAZARDS. THE ANCILLARY STAFF AND TECHNICIANS ARE LISTED CURRENTLY AT 20,007. ASPIRANTS TO THE GUILD ARE ADVISED THAT THE PROFESSION IS HIGHLY DANGEROUS, AND THE HEPTITE GUILD IS REQUIRED BY FEDERATION LAW TO DISCLOSE FULL PARTICULARS OF ALL DANGERS INVOLVED BEFORE CONTRACTING NEW MEMBERS.
Four thousand four hundred and twenty-five seemed an absurdly small roster for a galaxy-wide Guild that supplied essential elements to so many industries. Most galaxy-wide guilds ran to the hundreds of millions. What were those ancillary staff and technicians? The notation of “full particulars of dangers involved” didn’t dissuade Killashandra at all. Danger was relative.
THE CUTTING OF BALLYBRAN CRYSTAL IS A HIGHLY SKILLED AND PHYSICALLY SELECTIVE CRAFT, WHICH, AMONG ITS OTHER EXACTING DISCIPLINES, REQUIRES THAT PRACTITIONERS HAVE PERFECT AND ABSOLUTE PITCH BOTH IN PERCEPTION AND REPRODUCTION OF THE TONAL QUALITY AND TIMBRE TO BE FOUND ONLY IN TYPE IV THROUGH VIII BIPEDAL HUMANOIDS—ORIGIN: SOL III.
CRYSTAL CUTTERS MUST BE MEMBERS OF THE HEPTITE GUILD, WHICH TRAINS, EQUIPS, AND SUPPLIES GUILD MEDICAL SERVICES FOR WHICH THE GUILD EXACTS A 30 PERCENT TITHE FROM ALL ACTIVE MEMBERS.
Killashandra whistled softly—30 percent was quite a whack. Yet Carrik seemed to have no lack of credit, so 70 percent of his earnings as a Cutter must be very respectable.
Thinking of Carrik, she tapped out a query. Anyone could pose as a member of a Guild; chancers often produced exquisitely forged documentation and talked a very good line of their assumed profession, but a computer check could not be forged. She got affirmation that Carrik was indeed a member in good standing of the Heptite Guild, currently on leave of absence. A hologram of Carrik, taken when he used his credit plate for spaceflight to Fuerte five days before, flowed across the viewplate.
Well, the man was undeniably who he said he was and doing what he said he was doing. His being a card-tuned Guild member was a safeguard for her so she could relax in his offer of an “honest” invitation to share his holiday. He would not leave her to pay the charges if he decided to skip off-world precipitously.
She smiled to herself, suddenly feeling sensuous. Carrik thought himself lucky, did he? Well, so did she. The last vestige of “ought” was the fleeting thought that she “ought to” register herself with the Fuertan Central Computer as a transient, but since she was by no means obligated to do so as long as she didn’t require subsistence, she did nothing.
As she was beginning to enjoy her new found freedom, several of her classmates began to experience twinges of anxiety about Killashandra. Everyone realized that Killashandra must have been terribly upset by the examiners’ verdict. Though some felt she deserved the lesson, for her overbearing conceit, the kinder of heart were disquieted about her disappearance. So was Maestro Esmond Valdi.
They probably would not have recognized the Killashandra who was sluicing about on water skis on the southern seas of the Western Hemisphere or swathed in elegant gowns, escorted by a tall, distinguished-looking man to whom even the most supercilious hoteliers deferred.
It was a glorious feeling to have unlimited funds. Carrik encouraged Killashandra to spend, and practice permitted her to suspend what few scruples remained from years of eking necessities out of student allotments. She did have the grace to protest his extravagance, at least at the outset.
“Not to worry, pet. I’ve credit to spend,” Carrik reassured her. “I made a killing in dominant thirds in the Blue Range about the time some idiot revolutionists blew half a planet’s communications out of existence.” He paused; his eyes narrowed as he recalled something not quite pleasant. “I was lucky on shape, too. It’s not enough, you see, to catch the resonances on what you’re cutting. You’ve got to hope you remember which shape to cut, and that’s where you’re made or broken as a Crystal Singer. You’ve
got
to remember what’s high on the market or remember something like that revolution on Hardesty.” He pounded the table in emphasis, pleased with that particular memory. “I did remember that all right when it mattered.”
“I don’t understand.”
He gave her a quick look. “Not to worry, pet.” His standard phrase of evasion. “Come, give me a kiss and get the crystal out of my blood.”
There was nothing crystalline about his lovemaking or the enjoyment he derived from her body, so Killashandra elected to forget how often he avoided answering her questions about crystal singing. At first, she felt that since the man was on holiday, he probably wouldn’t want to talk about his work. Then she sensed that he resented her questions as if they were distasteful to him and that he wanted, above all, to forget crystal singing, which did not forward her plan. But Carrik was not a malleable adolescent, imploring her grace and favor. So she helped him forget crystal singing, which he was patently able to do until the night he awakened her with his groans.
“Carrik, what’s the matter? Those shellfish from dinner? Shall I get the medic?”
“No, no!” He twisted about frantically and took her hand from the communit. “Don’t leave me. This’ll pass.”
She held him in her arms as he cried out, clenching his teeth against some internal agony. Sweat oozed from his pores, yet he refused to let her summon help. The spasms racked him for almost an hour before they passed, leaving him spent and weak. Somehow, in that hour, she realized how much he had come to mean to her, how much fun he was, how much she had missed by denying herself any intimate relationships before. After he had slept and rested, she asked what had possessed him.
“Crystal, my girl, crystal.” His sullen manner and the haggard expression on his face made her drop the subject.