Killashandra

Chapter 18

Fortunately Lars was equally frustrated by their lack of privacy and made no further overtures. Perversely, Killashandra missed them. The cruiser had broken out flags and a full honor guard for the ceremonial and triumphant return. Killashandra steeled herself for yet another protocologically correct reception. She reflected on what scene she could produce to shorten the tedium, and debated whether or not a scene would produce any advantage. She had made several points. Unless she had sufficient provocation, she decided to leave well enough alone. For now. She might need to produce an effect to gain privacy within her suite.

For she was determined to enjoy Lars without any surveillance for whatever time remained to them. She could, of course, stretch out the organ repair as long as she wished. Or her instruction of technicians. She could include Lars in that program. He had the perfect – and absolute – pitch to tune crystal as well as the strength and manual dexterity required. She must do everything she could to make him indispensable to the Elders, for whatever protection that could provide him, since he didn’t seem at all interested in leaving Optheria. Even if that were possible.

“We’re near enough for you to have a spectacular view of the City Port,” Lars said, interrupting her reflections.

“A ‘natural’ port?” She smiled.

“Completely, though not nearly as good a natural harbor as North.”

“Naturally.”

“Captain Festinel awaits your arrival on the bridge.”

“How courteous! Where’s Torkes?”

“Burning up a few communications units with orders. He was incensed that you had to bloody your hands on the drive of a mere cruiser.”

“Doesn’t he value his skin as much as I do mine?”

Her entry rated salutes, rigid attention from the seamen and a smile and a warm handshake from Festinel. She politely accepted his effusive thanks and then pointedly turned to watch the rapidly approaching shoreline.

The City Port bustled with activity: small water taxis skipping across the waves, larger barges wallowing across their swells, and coastal freighters awaiting their turn at the piers which, with their array of mechanical unloading devices, were anything but “natural.” The cruiser’s velocity had moderated considerably now that it was in congested waters. Ponderously it approached the Federal docking area, where sleek courier vessels bobbed alongside two more squat cruisers.

Killashandra had no difficulty identifying their berth – it was crowded with a welcoming committee, all massed white and insipid pale colors, blurred faces turned seaward, despite the glare of the westering sun which was full in their eyes. The cruiser swung its bow slightly to port and the drive was cut, momentum carrying the big vessel inexorably to the dock and the grapples clanked against the hull, bringing it to a halt with a barely perceptible jolt.

“My compliments on a smooth docking, Captain Festinel – and my thanks for an excellent voyage.” Killashandra made gracious noises to all the bridge staff and then swept out to get the rest of the tedious formalities over.

“Ampris!” Lars grunted as they reached the portal. Beneath them the gangway was extruding the few meters to the dock.

“Of course, and my quartette lined up like the puppets they are. I think I am developing a splitting headache. All that crystal whine, you know.” She raised her hand to her forehead.

“See what line Ampris takes first.” Lars’s face was set, his nostrils flaring a little as he settled his respiratory rate.

Killashandra suppressed a perfectly natural surge of repugnance for a man who had ordered an assault on her, then hypocritically assured her that the culprit would be punished . . . How could she punish Ampris? The method she had employed with Torkes would not work; Ampris was too wily.

The gangplank had locked in place, the honor guard was arranged, Elder Torkes appeared, the welcoming committee began to applaud and, every inch the gracious celebrity, Killashandra descended. Mirbethan took a step forward, anxiously scanning Killashandra’s face for any sign of the “ordeal.” Thyrol, Pirinio, and Polabod all bowed low but permitted Elder Ampris to do the honors.

“Guildmember Ree, you cannot imagine our elation when we learned of your safe deliverance – ” Then Ampris caught sight of Lars, whom he was patently not expecting.

“This is Captain Lars Dahl who rescued me so boldly, and at no small risk to himself and his vessel. Captain Dahl, this is Elder Ampris.” Killashandra took the plunge, pretending ignorance of any previous contact between the two men. “I am forever indebted to Captain Dahl, as I’m sure the Council of Elders must be, for delivering me from that wretched patch of nowhere.”

Lars saluted crisply and impassively as Elder Ampris executed the shallowest of acknowledgments.

“The Harbor Master at Angel Island has detached him from duty there to be my personal bodyguard.” Killashandra gave an elegantly delicate shudder. “I won’t feel safe without his sure protection.”

“Quite understandable, Guildmember; however, I think that you’ll find our security measures – ”

“I felt quite secure within the Conservatory, Elder Ampris,” Killashandra said demurely. “I seem to be only at risk when I leave its sanctuary. I assure you I have no desire to do that again.”

“Security Leader Blaz – ”

“I’ll not have that officious oaf near me, Elder Ampris. He’s the reason I was put in jeopardy. The man has no intelligence or tact. I don’t trust him to spit in the right direction. Captain Lars Dahl is in charge of my personal security at my personal insistence. Have I not made myself clear?”

For a second Elder Ampris looked about to argue the point, but the moment passed. He inclined his head again, forced his face into a grim smile, and then gestured toward the waiting vehicle.

“Why this vast throng?” Killashandra asked, smiling graciously about her.

“Some of the winning composers and prospective performers for this year’s Festival and final-year students.”

“All waiting for the organ to be repaired?”

Elder Ampris cleared his throat. “Yes, that is true.”

“Well, I shan’t delay them any longer than necessary. Especially since Captain Dahl proved so capable in assisting me with the cruiser drive.”

Ampris stopped midstride and stared first at her, then incredulously at Lars.

“Yes, weren’t you informed that the cruiser had drive difficulties this morning? One of the crystals shattered. I still have a slight headache from the distortion. Naturally the ship could not proceed without emergency repairs. And while that was merely a matter of removing the shards and resetting the brackets on the undamaged crystals, it does require steady hands, a keen eye and ear. Captain Dahl was far more adept than the cruiser’s engineer. And he has the perfect and absolute pitch required. I think he will prove an admirable assistant, one in whom I certainly repose complete trust. You do agree, I’m sure.” They had reached the vehicle now. “You first, Captain Dahl, I shall want Elder Ampris on my right.”

Lars complied before the Elder could blurt out a protest and Killashandra settled herself, smiling as warmly as possible at Ampris, just as if she hadn’t delivered a most unpalatable request.

The quartette settled itself in the seats behind them and the vehicle left the dock area. Ports required much the same facilities throughout the galaxy. Fortunately nature had conspired in favor of human endeavors, so warehouses, seamen’s hostels, and mercantile establishments were not quite so tortuously situated in City Port as in the City proper. The Music Conservatory on its prominence was visible as soon as the Port gave way to an agricultural belt. From this approach, Killashandra could see the lateral elevation of the Festival auditorium and the narrow path that led to the suburb Lars had called Gartertown. She wondered if there’d be a new brew soon. Maybe Lars could collect a few bottles for her?

The drive was in the main a silent one, with Ampris stewing beside her and Lars stiffly silent. The strained atmosphere began to affect her, causing her to wonder if she really were doing the right thing for Lars. Yet if she hadn’t taken pains to divert suspicion from him, he’d be running with a threat of rehabilitation hanging over him. Had she erroneously assumed that he was as eager to continue their relationship as she was? Olav had wreathed them both with the handfast garlands. Surely that act held significance. She’d best have it out with Lars as soon as possible.

After what seemed a long time, they drew up at the imposing entrance to the Conservatory.

“I dispensed with the formality of a welcoming throng, Guildmember, in the interests of security.” Elder Ampris got out of the car and turned to give her a steadying hand.

“I have no fear of a second assault, Elder Ampris,” she said taking his dry clasp and smiling ingenuously at him, “with Captain Dahl beside me. And, you know, after the courtesies I received at the hands of the islanders, I’m beginning to think that that attack, as well as my abduction, were made to seem island-instigated. I can’t imagine an islander being jealous of anything on the Mainland.”

Lars had emerged from the car, but his expression was devoid of reaction. The skin on Ampris’s face was taut with the effort of controlling his. “With your comfort in mind, Guildmember, perhaps you might prefer to eat in your suite this evening.”

“That is so thoughtful, Elder Ampris. Resetting a crystal drive is an exhausting process. So many fiddling things requiring fine muscle coordination and complete concentration.” She sighed wearily, turning slightly to smile apologetically at Mirbethan and the others. “I want to be well rested to attack that repair tomorrow. Oh, Thyrol? With Captain Dahl to assist me, I won’t need any other helpers.”

She took Lars’s arm and ascended the shallow steps to the main entrance. She felt him quivering but for which of several reasons she couldn’t have told without glancing at his face. And she didn’t dare do that. “Do you know the way to my quarters, Captain Dahl?”

“If I may just escort you,” Mirbethan answered, hastening to lead the way.

“I was never in this part of the Conservatory, Crystal Singer,” Lars said as they entered the imposing main lobby.

“You’ve been to the conservatory, Captain Dahl?” Killashandra asked.

“Yes, Guildmember, I studied here for three years.”

“Why, Captain, you have unexplored capabilities. Are you then a singer?”

“Vocal music is not taught at the Conservatory: only the organ.”

“Really, I would have thought the planet’s main Conservatory would exploit every musical potential. How odd!”

“Do you find it so, Guildmember?”

“In other parts of the FSP, vocal arts are much admired, and a Stellar soloist highly respected.”

“Optheria places more value on the most complex of instruments.” Lars’s tone was of mild reproof. “The sensory organ combines sound, olfactory and tactile sensations to produce a total orchestration of alternate reality for the participant.”

“Is the organ limited to Optheria? I’ve never encountered one before in all my voyaging.”

“It is unique to Optheria.”

“Which certainly has many unique experiences for the visitor.”

Mirbethan’s pace, and her erect back, seemed to reflect at once her approval, and shock, at their conversation.

“Why, then, Captain Dahl, if you have studied to use the organ, are you sailing about in the islands?”

“Because, Guildmember, my composition was ah . . . not approved by the Masters who pass judgment on such aspirations, so I returned to my previous occupation.”

“To be sure, I am selfishly glad, Captain – for who would have rescued me had you not been in those waters?” Killashandra sighed deeply just as they turned the corridor into the hall she did recognize . “Mirbethan?”

The woman whirled, her expression composed though she was breathing rather rapidly.

“By any chance, I mean, I know I’ve been gone a good while, but I do hope that those beverages . . .”

“Your catering facility has been completely stocked with the beverages of your choice.”

“And the chimes have been turned off?”

Mirbethan nodded.

“And the catering unit instructed to supply proper-size portions of food without requiring additional authorization?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you. I, for one, am starving. Sea air, you know.” With a final smile, Killashandra swept through the door Lars held open.

By the time he had shut it, she had discovered four ceiling surveillance units in the main salon. “I am quite weary, Captain.”

“With due respect, Guildmember, you did not eat much of the evening meal, perhaps a light supper – ”

“The variety on the catering unit seems geared to student requirements . . . unless you, having spent time here, can make a suggestion.”

“Indeed I would be delighted to, Guildmember.” Lars located several more as they moved through the suite to the two bedrooms. He peered into the first bathing room and grinned broadly at her. “May I draw you a bath?”

“An excellent idea.” She strode to what was evidently the one room that had been left unmonitored.

Lars began filling the tub, having turned the taps on full.

He reached into his tunic and extracted an innocuous metal ball. “A deceiver, Father calls it. It distorts picture and sound – we can be quite free once it’s operating. And when we leave the suite,” – he grinned, miming the device returned to his pocket – “it’ll drive their technicians wild.”

“Won’t they realize that the distortion only works when we’re here?”

“I suggest that tomorrow you complain about being monitored in the bedroom. Can we cope with just one free room?” He began to undress her, his expression intense with anticipation.

“Two,” Killashandra corrected him with a coy moue as the bright and elegant overall Teradia had chosen for her fell in a rainbow puddle at her feet.

It was, of course, thoroughly soaked with the water displaced when Lars overbalanced her into the tub.

When they had sated their appetites sufficiently, Killashandra idly described wet circles on the broad expanse of Lars’s chest. “I think that with the best motives in the world, I have placed you in an awkward situation.”

“Beloved Killashandra, when you sprang that,” and he aptly mimicked her voice, “ ‘I have no fear of being assaulted with Captain Dahl beside me,’ I nearly choked.”

“I felt you quaking, but I didn’ t know if it was laughter or outrage.”

“And then suggesting that someone else had instigated the attack to implicate islanders – Killashandra, I wouldn’d have missed that for anything. You really got mine back on the flatulent fardling. But watch him, Killa. He’s dangerous. Once he and Torkes start comparing notes . . .”

“They still have to get that organ fixed in time for all those lucky little composers to practice their pieces. I’m here and even if a replacement is coming, it’s the old bird-in-the-hand.”

“Yes, and they’ve got to have done all the Mainland concerts to ensure a proper Optherian attitude toward visitors.”

“Proper attitude? Mainland concerts? What do you mean?”

Lars held her slightly away from him in the capacious bath, reading her face and eyes.

“You don’t know? You don’t really know why that organ is so important to the Elders?”

“Well, I do know that the set-up will produce an intense emotional experience for the listener. It verges on illegal manipulation.”

Lars gave a sour laugh. “Verges? It is. But then you would only have seen the sensory elements. The subliminal units are kept out of sight, underneath the organ loft.”

“Subliminals?” Killashandra stared at Lars.

“Of course, ninny. How do you think the Elders keep the people of Optheria from wanting any of the marvels that the visitors tell them about? Because they’ve just had a full dose of subliminal conditioning! Why do you think people who prefer to exercise their own wits live in the islands? The Elders can’t broadcast the subliminals and sensories.”

“Subliminals are illegal! Even the sensory feedbacks border on illegality! Lars, when I tell the FSP this – ”

“Why do you think my father was sent to Optheria? The FSP wants proof! And that means an eyeball on the illegal equipment. It’s taken Father’s group nearly thirty years to get close enough.”

“Then you weren’t here just to learn to play that blasted thing?”

“Playing the blasted thing is the only way to get close enough to it to find out where the subliminal units are kept. Comgail did. And died!”

“You’re suggesting he didn’t suicide?”

Lars shook his head slowly. “Something Nahia said during the hurricane confirmed my suspicion that he hadn’t. You see, I knew Comgail. He was my composition tutor. He wasn’t a martyr type. He certainly wanted to live. He was willing to risk a lot but not his life. Nahia mentioned that he’d asked Hauness to provide him with rehab blocks. A good block – and Hauness is the best there is – prevents the victim from confessional diarrhea and a total loss of personality. Comgail had been so above reproach all the time he’d been at the Conservatory that not even a paranoid like Pedder would have suspected him of collusion with dissidents. But, for shattering the manual, Comgail’d automatically be sent to rehab. He had prepared himself for that. He wasn’t killed by a crystal fragment, Killa, he was murdered by it. I think it was because he had found the access to the subliminal units.”

“Subliminals!” Killashandra seethed with horror at the potentially total control. “And he found the access? Where? All I need is one look at them – ”

Lars regarded her solemnly. “That’s all we need – once we find them. They’ve got to be somewhere in the organ loft.”

“Well, then” – Killashandra embraced him exuberantly – “wasn’t I clever to insist that you and I handle the repairs all by ourselves.”

“If we’re allowed!”

“You’ve the jammer.” She rose from the deep bath, Lars following her. “Say, if your father’s so clever with electronics, why hasn’t he figured a Way to jam the shuttleport detection arch?”

Lars chuckled as she dried him, for once more interested in something other than his physical effect on her.

“He’s spent close to thirty years trying. We even have a replica of the detector on Angel. But we cannot figure a way to mask that residue. Watch out for my ears!” She had been briskly toweling his hair.

“Does the detector always catch the native?”

“Infallible.”

“And yet . . .” She wrapped her hair in a towel. She pointed to the jammer and then proceeded to the salon. Lars followed, the jammer held above his head like a torch, a diabolical gleam in his eye as he waved it at each of the monitors he passed. “Yet when Thyrol came out right with me, the detector didn’t catch him. And passed me.”

– “What? No matter how many people pass under it, it will always detect the native!”

“It didn’t then! I wonder if it had anything to do with crystal resonance.

“You mean in you?”

“Hmmm. It’s not exactly something we can experiment with, is it? Prancing in and out of the shuttleport.”

“Hardly – and we’re half a world away from the only other one.”

“Well, we can worry about that later. After we’ve found the access and after we’ve repaired that wretched organ! Now,” and she opened the doors of the beverage store with a flourish, “what shall we drink with our supper?”