Crystal Line

Chapter 5

Darkness forced them to stop with twelve fine crystals cut and stored in the padded carrier case carefully strapped in the cargo bay.Quietly, from the ease of long practice, they made a meal and ate it.Then, continuing their rituals, they washed-there would come days when crystal song would override such habits.While Lars made entries in the sled's log, Killashandra pulled down their double bunk and got out the quilts.They were both ready to settle at the same time.

The morning sun, stroking the Ranges awake, provided an alarm no singer could resist: the insidious chiming of crystal as the first rays dispelled the chill of night.The notes were random, pure sound, for only perfect crystal could speak on sunlight.The ringing stirred senses and awoke desires as it grew louder and more insistent.Killashandra and Lars simultaneously turned to each other.She could see his smile in the shadowy cabin and answered it, lifting her arm to his shoulders, eager for the touch of his bare skin against hers.It seemed to Killashandra that as their lips met an arpeggio rippled through the air, excitingly sensual, deliciously caressing, ending on a clear high C that shivered over them just as their bodies joined.

This was the real reason men and women sang crystal together-to hear such music, to experience such sensations and such ecstasy as only crystal could awaken on bright clear mornings.Such unions made up for all the mundane squabbles and recriminations between partners when crystal cracked or splintered and a whole day's work might lie in shards at their feet.There was always the prospect of the incredible combination of sound and sensation in sunlit crystal to reanimate their relationship.

"We must get moving, Sunny," Lars murmured, making an effort to move.Too languorous with remembered passion, Killashandra murmured a throaty denial and shaded her eyes from the sun splashing into the cabin.

"C'mon now.Hell, we'll be having a spate of good clear weather," he said, pushing her toward the edge of the bunk."We can afford to do a little work today.I'll start breakfast.Your turn in the head."

He used the light jocular tone that he knew Killashandra would accept.As she rose and stretched luxuriously, she glanced enticingly over her shoulder at him.

"That won't work on me today, Sunny," he said wryly and gave her a slap across the buttock.Sometimes the sight of her at full stretch was enough to tempt him, despite the fact that they both knew a repeat performance once the sun had risen would be less satisfying than the first.

She strutted sensually across to the head, flirting with him, but he only laughed and stuck his right leg into his coverall, pulling the garment up past his unresponsive member.She grabbed up her own clothes and slid open the door.As he took his turn, she finished making the substantial breakfast they would need to fuel them for working crystal all day.On clear days, singers rarely stopped to eat, cutting as long as there was light enough to see where to place their blades.

Killashandra recalled, without remembering when, that there had been a time or two when she had cut throughout a double-moon night: the times when she had struggled to cut enough to afford passage off the fardling planet to get some respite from crystal song.

They had been profitably working that vein for five days when Killashandra's weather sense began to pluck at her consciousness.

"Storm?"Lars knew her so well.

She nodded, and set her cutter for a new level."Not to worry yet."

"Nardy hell, Killa, we've got eight crates of the stuff.No sense in taking a risk.And the marker's new enough to draw us right back here after the storm."

"We've time.Sing out," she told him in a tone that was half command, half plea."Greens aren't easy to find, and I'm not about to quit when there's still time to cut.The storm could ruddy well splinter this vein to nothing good enough to spit at."

Lars regarded her levelly."Just let's not cut it too fine!"

"I wouldn't let you get storm-crazed, lover."

"I'm counting on it.I think this tier's going to be minor key," he added, humming a B-flat and hearing the same tone murmur back at him.

"I'll make mine E, or would A be better?"

He nodded crisp agreement for the A, and they sang, cutting as soon as they heard the answering notes the crystal flung back at them, its own death knell.

But storm sense caught at Killashandra again, not long after they had crated the nine crystals of that cutting.

"I think we're going," she told him, hefting the cutter in one hand and bending her knees to take one handle of the crate.He did the same, and she set a rapid pace back to the sled.As Lars settled the crate into its strappings, Killa racked up both cutters and took the pilot's seat, closing hatches and starting up the engines.

Lars peered out of the window of the right-hand side and muttered a curse."Angle of the wall's wrong.Can't see anything.Where's it coming from?"

"South."Just then the weather-alert klaxon cut in.It got one hoot out before her hand closed the toggle.

"You're ahead of the best technology the Guild can beg, borrow, or steal, aren't you?"Lars grinned at her, proud of her ability.

"Yup!"

"Don't get cocky."

"It's going to be a bad one, too."She shifted uneasily in the seat, her bones already responding to the distant stroking of the crystal."I swear, the longer I cut, the more sensitive I get to the intensity of weather systems."

"Saves our skins, and our crystal."

She lifted the sled vertically, and as they rose above the sheltering walls of the ravine, storm clouds could be seen as a smudge of dark, roiling gray on the horizon.She veered the sled about to port and lifted above the higher cliffs, hovering just briefly over their paint mark, satisfied that it would survive this storm and a few more before wind-carried abrasives scoured the rock clean again.

They were nearly out of the Ranges when their comunit lit up.

"Mayday, Mayday," cried a frantic voice.

"Mayday?What the-" she demanded indignantly, leaning to one side to close the connection.

Lars's hand masked the plate."That's Bollam's voice."

"Bollam?"Killashandra stared at him in puzzlement: the name meant nothing to her.

"Lanzecki's new partner," Lars muttered, and responded."Yes, Bollam?"

"It's Lanzecki, I can't get him to stop!"

"Take the crystal out of his hand," Killashandra said angrily.It irritated her that she still couldn't place this Bollam fellow.

"He's not holding crystal.He's cutting and he won't stop.He won't listen.He's-he's thralled!"

"You dork, of course he is, that's why he doesn't cut often.It's your job to stop him.That's why he takes a partner into the Ranges," Lars replied, his tone still reasonable.

"But I've tried, I've tried everything.He's bigger than I am!"Bollam's voice had turned to a distressed whine.

"Knock his feet out from under him," Lars said, concern deepening in his expression.

"I tried that, too."

"Cross-cut with your cutter.Tune it off-pitch, queer his note," Killa roared, becoming more incensed with this dork's stupidity.Where had Lanzecki found such an ineffectual partner?

"I can't.I don't know how to cross-cut.This is my first time in the Ranges.He was shepherding me!"Now there was grievance and indignation in Bollam's voice.That particular tone triggered the appropriate memory in Killashandra's mind: it was exactly how Bollam had sounded when he couldn't find the Apharian files.

"So this is why Bollam suited him," Killashandra said, bitter with realization of exactly what Lanzecki was doing.

Lars stared at her, jerking her arm to pull her around to face him."Turn the sled.We've got to try."

"No."She reset her hands on the yoke, gritting her teeth against the pain that suddenly scored her and the tears that threatened to blind her."No, we can't!Rules and Regs!Mayday means nothing on Ballybran!"

"Nothing?"Lars roared at her."Lanzecki's been our friend, your lover! How can you abandon him?"

"I'm not abandoning him," Killashandra shrieked back, glaring her anger, her hurt, the pain of knowing what Lanzecki wanted!"Get out of there, Bollam," she bellowed at the comunit."Save your own skin.You can't save his."

"But I can't just leave!"Bollam sounded shocked, horrified at this heartless advice."He's the Guild Master.It's my duty…"

"There is no such duty in the Rules and Regs, Bollam.There never was and there never will be.Get out of there, Bollam, while you still can.Leave Lanzecki."

"I don't believe I'm hearing you say this," Lars cried.

She swiveled around at him, tears streaming down her face, her throat closing so that she was momentarily deprived of speech.

"He wants it this way," she managed to choke out.Then she swallowed hard on her grief and glared straight into Lars's appalled face."Consider, Lars, would there be any other logical reason why Lanzecki would team up with a dork like Bollam?A novice in the Ranges?Physically too weak to knock him out of thrall?We haven't the right to interfere.We owe Lanzecki his choice."

She hooked her elbows through the yoke so that Lars would have to break her arms to get control of the sled.But he didn't try.He sat staring at her as she sent the sled roaring out of the Range, using every ounce of power in its powerful new engines.

"Lanzecki intended to opt out?"

"Singers have that option, Lars," she said in a voice as low as his.Her throat thickened again, her eyes stinging with tears.It was a hard reality to accept, but she didn't doubt for a moment-now-that that had been Lanzecki's intention.She could even hear his deep voice replying to her puzzled query about Bollam: that the man had his uses.She ought to have known what Lanzecki was about and tried to-tried to what?Talk a tired man out of ending a life that had grown too tedious with responsibility, too tiresome with problems, too lonely with his longtime partner dead?"He's been Guild Master for centuries."

Lars was silent until, behind them, they could both hear storm wail creeping inexorably nearer.

"Then is that also why he was so intent on me understanding Guild politics?"Lars asked, softly, shakily.

"What do you mean by that?" she demanded.

"I'm not sure I know," Lars replied, raising his hands in doubt."It was just that-well, Lanzecki knew you and-whenever we were in from the Ranges, he sought out our company, but I always thought it was you…" His voice trailed off.

"Don't get any ideas, Lars Dahl," she said coldly, harshly."You may be a Milekey Transition…"

"So are you."

"But there's no way I'd be Guild Master."She glared at him, willing him to respond in the same vein."Damn it, Lars, you're my partner.And there's a lot more to being Guild Master than understanding the politics of the job."

"That is true enough," he replied in a muted voice, his eyes looking directly ahead as they passed over the last hills before the Cube.

The flight officer signaled them to park their sled near Sorting with the other half-dozen vehicles that had fled the storm.Killashandra killed the engines and turned to Lars.

"Start with the crates, will you?I'll report," she said bleakly.

"I will, if you want me to," Lars offered, suddenly human again in his unexpressed sympathy.

"No, I was pilot."

The flight officer, a lanky lean man whom Killashandra didn't recognize at all, was trotting in her direction, signaling her to wait for him.

"Were you within range of Bollam?The one Lanzecki was shepherding?"

"Yes," Killashandra said so flatly that the man blinked in surprise."He couldn't break Lanzecki out of thrall.We told him to get the hell out of the Ranges."

"You mean…?"

The cargo officer arrived at that point, her face grim.

"I mean Lanzecki chose!"She dared the flight officer to argue her point.

"You're sure, Killa?" the cargo officer asked.

Killashandra rounded on her, away from the accusing eyes of the flight officer.

"Why else would he choose a dork like Bollam?And a novice?Too inexperienced to know how to break thrall and too physically insignificant to be a threat!"

The cargo officer bowed her head, her eyes closed.

"I don't understand… Were you near enough, Killashandra Ree, to reach them in time?" the flight officer demanded.

"I accepted Lanzecki's choice.You'd better."

With that Killashandra turned on her heel, returning to her sled at a pace that was nearly a run.Behind her she could hear the flight officer arguing with Cargo, whose low and curt rejoinders told Killashandra that she, at least, accepted Lanzecki's option.

As she helped her silent partner unload their cut, she knew that Lars's feelings about that option were ambivalent.The news seemed to seep through from the Hangar into Sorting, and conversations were muted, arguments over crystal prices conducted in low tones.When the Sorter told them how much they had earned for the green, Killashandra felt none of the elation such a figure should have elicited.Lars only arched his eyebrows, nodded acknowledgement and turned away.The Sorter shrugged.Dully, Killashandra followed Lars to the lifts.She did listen to the Met report that was being broadcast, even in the lifts, since weather had top priority with most singers.Nothing was said about missing sleds.Nothing ever was.

"That's a relief," Killashandra muttered as the report concluded.The storm had been one of those quick squalls, fierce in its brief life, its only damage that of taking Lanzecki's life in its fury."We can be back out in the Ranges by tomorrow evening."

"Fardles!Killa."Lars rounded on her."Lanzecki's not even found and-"

Her livid expression stopped his words."The sooner I'm in the Ranges, the sooner I'll forget."

"Forget Lanzecki?"Lars was stunned.

"Forget!Forget!"The lift door opened, and she ran down the hall to their apartment.She heard him following her and wasn't even grateful.

As she slammed into their quarters, she heard the radiant fluid slopping into the tub.Pulling off her coverall and boots, she stumbled into the room and clambered into the bath.The fluid was no more than calf-deep, so she stood under the spigot and let it roll down her back and shoulders.Dimly she heard Lars's voice, updating his records.She began to curse, so she couldn't possibly hear a word he said.

All the resident staff of the Cube were quiet and depressed the next noon when Killashandra and Lars reached the dining room.While Killa filled her tray from the alcohol-drinks dispenser, Lars kept looking around, peering at the faces of those sitting in alcoves.Seeing his discreet search for Bollam recharged her vexation.

"Lanzecki opted out, Lars," she said in an intense, low voice, jerking him to her side."What're you drinking?"

"Yarran!"His voice was flat.

"Yarran?This is no time for beer!This is the time to get paralytic drunk!"

He gave her a bitterly amused look."I thought you wanted to be back in the Ranges tomorrow morning.With a hangover?"

"With the most massive hangover I can acquire between now and then," she told him savagely, and downed the first of the many triple-measure glasses on her tray, pressing for a refill as she tossed the empty glass into the recycler.

"You may just go out alone, then," he said.Taking the Yarran beer from the slot, he left her standing there.

Surprised, she watched him maneuver among the tables, heading for the far alcove where the two Hangar officers were sitting.She hadn't thought Lars had a masochistic streak in him.Or maybe he just had to find out if Bollam had somehow managed to get Lanzecki into the sled and back to the Cube.

The dork couldn't have managed it, or the nonsingers of the Guild wouldn't be so deep in drink.Now that she had looked around, she could see that most of them were as badly gone as she would like to be.She downed another triple and, moving carefully so as not to slosh a drop of liquid anesthesia, made her way toward Lars.The stench of ketones was almost overpowering.These people must have been drinking steadily since the news got out.

"Oh, he'll live," Cargo was saying as Killashandra approached the table."That's not saying how much good he'll be."She glanced up at Killashandra and, with a brief inclination of her head, indicated that the singer could join them.The flight officer clearly did not agree with that invitation."Oh, leave it, Murr.You haven't been here long enough to know.You did as you should, Killa," she added and patted the cushion beside her.Her eyebrows did lift at the sight of so much liquor on the tray.She raised her mug of coffee."Happy hangover!"

Suddenly Killashandra lost any taste for the boozing she had planned.Her stomach roiled and growled.She sat down, hands limp in her lap, and stared across at Lars, wanting his reassurance and understanding even more than she had ever wanted to cut black crystal.He pointedly ignored her, and the tears began to stream down her face.

"You did right, Killa.You did," Cargo said softly, and clasped her fingers on the singer's forearm, squeezing briefly with a gentling firmness before releasing."Didn't she, Lars Dahl?" she added sternly.

Lars looked at Cargo, unable not to avoid his partner's tear-streaked face.He closed his eyes, exhaling in defeat."Yes, if you say so, she did."

"Look here, Dahl."Cargo leaned across the table, her face fierce."I do say so.If you want, you can ask Medical.They could see."And she waved her hand in the general direction of the infirmary wing where damaged singers were tended until such time as hearts in crippled bodies stopped and empty minds went dark."I could see!"And her tone was fierce."Murr here didn't know Lanzecki in his prime as I did, and Killa did!And Killa knew him better than most.Face it, Murr, Lars, she did the right thing.Don't know why that ass Bollam even qualified-except he was probably too craven, or too shitless scared to step back after Disclosure, when he heard all the risks he'd be taking on Ballybran.He had a lousy Transition, as if the symbiont working into his bloodstream also discovered it hadn't made a great choice of a home body, and we'd never though he'd end up a singer!"The scorn in her voice gave unexpected ease to Killashandra's anguish."Certainly not as Lanzecki's partner!"

"Lanzecki was shepherding him…" Lars said, trying to find some perverse justification.

Cargo snorted bitterly."When Lanzecki said he'd shepherd the geek, I knew I wouldn't ever see Lanzecki back in the Hangar, Lars. And I told you that, didn't I, Murr?"

"I just don't understand why," Murr said."Everyone's saying he was the best Guild Master we've ever had…"

"There've only been four," Cargo replied.

"Four?"Murr was staggered."But the Guild's been going close to seven hundred years!"

"Hmmm, so it has, and I've been Cargo for nearly two and a half hundred."

That silenced Murr completely-he stared at the woman as if he expected her active body and attractive face to crumple into dust if he so much as blinked.Despite her grief, Killashandra was amused.

"What did Medical know about Lanzecki?"Lars asked, his expression as bleak as ever.Somehow, though, Killa sensed that his antagonism toward her had eased.

Cargo shrugged."What happens to all of us eventually?The symbiont is weakened past restoration, and degeneration finally starts.All a fast downhill ride then."That was when she noticed Murr's expression and grinned."Never fear, Murr, you're stuck with me a while yet.Me and my symbiont are in great shape."

"It doesn't say in Rules and Regs," Lars began after watching Murr try to assume a normal attitude, "how a new Guild Master is elected."

"No, it doesn't," Cargo agreed, frowning slightly."But, like I say, the problem doesn't come up very often."

Killashandra sent a fierce glare at Lars.The slight grin that tugged at one corner of his mouth did not reassure her.

"It'll take time," Cargo added indifferently."Politics is involved.What else is new?They have to choose someone acceptable to the majority of the long-term customers."

"Who's 'they'?"Lars asked.

"I dunno."Cargo shrugged again."Maybe one of the Instructors knows." She looked around the big room."None of them appears to be sober enough to ask.I gotta get back to work.Do I put your sled into a ready slot?That storm's cleared off."

Killashandra didn't dare look at Lars.

"Yes, we'll be out again tomorrow," he said, and she sagged against the cushions with relief.But her relief that was very short-lived as she remembered that Cargo estimated it would be a long time before the new Guild Master would be chosen.

So she didn't get drunk to blunt her acute sense of loss at Lanzecki's death.She endured it as Cargo and Lars did, as Murr couldn't.But she drank glass for glass of Yarran beer with them.A singer could drink Yarran for days and barely blunt sensitivities.She heard that Bollam had survived with what wits he originally possessed intact.He had been badly crystal-cut when the rescue ship had found his crashed sled, but he had made it past the storm zone before losing control.What she hated Bollam for was that crystal had wiped all his memories of Lanzecki.She couldn't wait to get out in the Ranges and hope for the same respite.A few days cutting in the Ranges, and one could forget just about anything.

Lars was up before her the next morning, their gear all packed, and silently they made their way to the Hangar.Cargo lifted her hand in acknowledgement; Flight Officer Murr lifted his only to give them the go-ahead.Some trainee gave them a formal release.

As if the sled was on some kind of giant spring whose pull could not be resisted, they flew directly back to the black and yellow chevron of the green crystal.

"We shouldn't have gone direct," Killashandra remarked to Lars as he passed over the marker.

"Sky's clear," he said with a diffident shrug.It was.No other singer was aloft to see the direction they took, direct or oblique.

When they landed in the little canyon, they both knew the vein had been damaged.They spent the rest of the day trying to cut down into clear color.

"Fardles, it's gone, Lars, leave it," Killa said when decades upon decades of experience finally surfaced to remind her how pointless their efforts were."Green cracks the worst of all when a vein's been exposed."

He kicked at the shards underfoot to relieve his frustration and led the way back to the sled.They stayed there the night, but when crystal song woke desire in them, it was only crystal that spoke, not their hearts.

It took them a week to search the full circle of which that chevron was the center.They found a very light pink, but it wasn't worth the effort of turning on their cutters.They had withdrawn from each other as never before, and Killashandra cursed silently, craving to cut crystal and relieve the tension.Even Lars might forget-at least lose the edge of painful memory-if they could just cut.

Perversely the weather stayed fair, but summer had Ballybran in its thrall and baked the Ranges.As they searched for crystal, they also looked for the deepest, most shadowy canyons in which to spend the night and get some relief from the unmitigated heat.

"I could almost welcome a storm," Lars said."Unless we can find some water, we're going to have to go back."

"No!Not until we find crystal."

He shrugged, but they did find water, a deep pool under an overhang where water had oozed out of the more porous rock and been collected in the shade.They filled the tank, then stripped and bathed, washing their clothing where a tiny stream trickled out of the pond.The relief was physical, not mental, but they were more in charity with each other than at any time since Bollam's voice had shattered their rapport.

Late the next morning Lars, whose turn it was to pilot the sled, spotted an almost invisible black and yellow chevron.

"What do you think?We cut here?" he asked.

"I don't remember, don't care, I'd even cut pink, so long's we cut something!"

"Eeny, meeny, pitsa teeny," and Lars aimed the sled sou'-sou'east to a narrow gorge with high walls on the north side.There was a V-shaped notch in the eastern lip."That looks familiar."

"It's a cut all right."She had both their cutters unracked before Lars landed the sled, and pausing only long enough to grab a water bottle, she half ran to the fracture, slipping on old shards to reach the site."It's the black, Lars, it's the black!"

Depression lifted from her, and she even remembered to be cautious as she climbed to the top of the shelf.Lars sang out a fine strong C, and she could feel the crystal's response even through the thick soles of her boots.She cut the first shaft, then struggled with Lars when he had to wrest it out of her hands, for it thralled her as black crystal usually did.She was weeping when she saw him nestle the black in the padded crate.He slapped her hard, three times across the face, and she leaned against him, grateful.

"It's all right, Sunny.It's all right," he murmured, caressing her hair briefly."Now, let's cut.For Lanzecki.He did like to see us bring in the blacks."

"Yeah, but he's not going to make me link 'em!No way will he talk me into linking again!"

She was figuring where to cut next, and how many they could get out of this fine black crystal, so she didn't see the peculiar way Lars looked at her.

Clodine gave them top market price on their five crates of black.There was enough for two planetary systems-if any could afford the price of black-crystal comunits-and some nice single pieces that might just chord into current installations as auxiliaries.Clodine was full of praise for their work.

"No one cuts the way you two do.I didn't realize singers could be so individual, but you are, you know," she said, slightly shy with embarrassment but sincere in her compliment.

"Where'll we go, Lars?"Killashandra asked."I think it's your choice."

"I think you're right," he replied, laughing.He was himself again, she knew, but she didn't know why she thought he hadn't been.

Back in their quarters, as usual she plunged directly into the tub while he updated his file.

"That didn't take you long," she said.It seemed only a few moments before he came into the room.Usually an update took him a quarter of an hour.

Still clothed, he was looking in a puzzled fashion at a printout.He held it so she could see the message.

"Report to Conference?What does Lanzecki want you to do now?"She hauled at his hand."You've got to bathe first.We reek!"She laughed because the smell of him could always arouse her no matter how rank he was.

"Lanzecki?"He sighed, his eyes sad, and she wondered what was wrong."I'd better go find out.This message is several days old."

"He can wait.He has before."

Lars peeled off the perspiration-stained and crystal-sliced overall."I'll shower.I'll be back as soon as I know what this means."He crumpled the message in a wad and lobbed it at the recycler.

"Oh, Lars!We've got to make plans…"

"You start. Just find us a water world that we haven't been to, Sunny," he said, but she sensed his tone was forced.

And so it would be, being required to report so immediately to Lanzecki after a month in the Ranges.Hot summer, at that.It would take several long baths to cleanse her skin of accumulated sweat and dust.Fardles, how she hated Ballybran in the summer.Even her hair had been baked off her head; she fingered the inch-short strands.No, the memory surfaced: they had cut each other's hair scalp-close at one point because they had been so hot and their hair so filthy.

She sank to her chin; the radiant fluid was heavy against her skin, drawing out the vibrations that seemed to throb in every pore.She was tired.She didn't know how Lars was finding the energy to answer Lanzecki's summons.She did remember to pull the shoulder harness from its alcove and get her arms through it.That way, if she did fall asleep, she wouldn't slip beneath the fluid.A singer could drown that way.She had too much awareness of danger to fall into that trap the way… She paused, unable to remember who it was who had been in danger.

She was just beginning to feel clean when Lars came swinging into the bathroom.He stood for a moment on the threshold, taking her in, and then began the grin she knew too well meant he was about to say something he knew she wouldn't like.

"There's a terminal patient waiting escort at Shankill, Killa," he said, drawling the words out.

She groaned."And you volunteered?Why does Lanzecki always pick on us?"

He pointed his index finger at her, lifting his eyebrows and grinning rather sheepishly, and she groaned again.

"He picked me again?"

An odd expression flashed across Lars's face, and his brows leveled again."I picked you."He strode over to the bath, hooking a towel in one hand as he passed the rack.He held it up to her."This is a real bad one.She wasn't diagnosed properly and the symbiont is the only chance she has."

Killashandra heaved herself out of the bath, ignoring the entreaty in his eyes and the set of his lips.She stalked to the shower stall, the radiant fluid sleeting off her body with every step.She turned the water shower on full blast.From the curtain of water she glared at him, turning slowly to be sure the fluid rinsed off completely.Slamming the lever in the opposition direction, she deigned to take the towel from his hand.And sighed.

"Does Lanzecki need singers so badly he'll recruit the moribund?" she asked flippantly, drying herself, deliberately making the actions sensual.Catching that same odd expression on her partner's face, she realized that dalliance was the last thing on his mind just then.

"She hails from a planet named Fuerte.I thought you'd be the best representative the Guild could send."

She caught the slight emphasis of the personal pronoun.A second flippant remark was on her lips when she sensed that Lars really wanted her to take this assignment.

"Shuttle's waiting, Killa," he said gently."She doesn't have much time."

"Shards!Why me?"She flipped the towel away, examining her body."I don't even have a recent scar to show off.I couldn't prove the positive rejuvenation of the symbiont.Much less," she added with a wry smile, "much less that I originated on Fuerte."

"She doesn't have much time."Lars gave her his one-sided grin though his blue eyes remained sad."And you're much better at Disclosure than anyone else I know."

Grumbling to herself, nevertheless Killashandra went to the closet and dragged the first clean shipsuit she saw, thrusting her feet through the pant legs, shoving her arms down the sleeves, and closing the front as she used her toes to hook boots from the floor.She jammed her feet into them.

"Where've they stashed her?"

Lars's arm came around her shoulders and he nuzzled her ear, kissing fondly but with no hint of sensuality."In Recruitment."

"Recruitment?"

He nodded."You'll understand when you get there.Now go!"

In fact, he walked her to the lift and gave her another kiss when she exited at the shuttle level.Killashandra wasn't happy about Lanzecki preempting Lars's assistance.She didn't really mind about her assignment-she had done it before.

The Ballybran symbiont was the last chance for those whose illnesses could not be cured by modern techniques.In a galactic civilization, minor human mutations could result in major immune reactions to relatively innocuous viruses that refused to respond even with an immense pharmacopoeia and therapeutics cunningly developed from old-world reliables and alien innovations.Exposure to the Ballybran symbiont had proved remarkably effective in almost every single case-at least the ones that reached the planet before the organ damage have gone past the point of retrieval.The obvious deterrent was that the patient must take up whatever new life the symbiont provided-and not always that of crystal singer, since that required perfect pitch.But crystal singing was not the only career available on Ballybran.Support skills and professions were always welcomed.Killa wondered what skills this new candidate might have.Maybe replace that dork in Lanzecki's office?

Lanzecki's personal shuttle was parked at the bay, and the pilot ceased lounging the moment she emerged from the lift, gesturing her urgently to hurry.She gave him a smile, since he appeared to know her.

"What's the gen on this candidate?" she asked as she strapped herself in.

He nodded briefly and completed the formalities with Traffic Control, but he didn't answer until they had cleared Ballybran's atmosphere.

"The daughter of some planetary official…"

"Fuerte."

"Yeah, that's the place.Medic says they got her here just about in time.Some bug's doing nasty things to her spinal cord."

Killashandra gave a shudder.

"The irony is that she was trying to find a vaccine for the same infection."

"She's medical?" Medically trained personnel were valuable on Ballybran, despite the symbiont's benefices.

"Research and Development.Not enough R and very little D," he added.

Shankill Base cleared them immediately to the Guild portal.

"I'll wait," the pilot said with a nod of his head as he opened the shuttle's lock.

The recruitment director, a rather portly and impressive-looking man, seemed immensely relieved at her arrival.

"This way, Killashandra Ree," he said."They oughtn't to have left this so long," he added with a mixture of annoyance and criticism."She may not make it."

Killa started to give a facetious response, but limited herself to a shrug.

"This way," he said, gesturing her away from the interview rooms toward one of the larger accommodations."We have completed all the necessary formalities…"

"Then why-" She broke off for he had palmed the door open and she was momentarily startled by the number of people crowded into the room.From the expressions on their faces, she began to understand some of the problems.The candidate was on a float, to one side of the room, a medic hovering anxiously and fussing with the dials of the support system that evidently kept the girl alive.Five people whose faces were tanned by Fuertan sun and anxious with fear rushed toward her, each addressing her with such urgency she could understand nothing.

"Which of you are her parents?"Killashandra asked."I can plainly see who's the applicant."

Two stepped forward while the other three looked displeased at being excluded.

"I am Governor Fiske-Ulass," the man said, "Donalla's father, and this is her mother, Dian Fiske-Ulass."

"So what's your problem?"

The man gave a twitch to his shoulders that suggested to Killa that he was rarely in the position of petitioner and found it unacceptable.

"We find that we are unable to accompany Donalla to Ballybran…"

"You may-if you wish to remain with her," Killa said drolly.

Irritation flickered in his eyes, but he went on, regarding her with growing suspicion.Fuertan officials hated being challenged.

"That there is absolutely no guarantee that this-this unusual symbiosis will cure her…"

The medic spoke up from the side of the room."It was her option, Governor.Her option when she was still able to speak.She maintains that position."

Killa made eye contact with the medic."She can no longer speak?"

"She can communicate," the medic replied, sending a glance at the governor, who flicked his fingers in repudiation of that statement.

"How?"

"If you have been in attendance on an invalid, you learn to interpret requirements…"

The governor snorted in dismissal, and the mother to stifled a sob.Killa nodded her head in acceptance, however, and waited for the medic to continue.

"One blink of the eyelids is no, two is yes."She stepped away from the float, gesturing Killa to see for herself.

"Everyone blinks," the governor said.

Killa ignored him and approached the patient.Looking at the bleached white face, lines of long suffering and pain drawn on the papery-looking dry skin, Killashandra felt a stab of sympathy for this wreck of a human being.Her head was braced, and Killa had to bend slightly over her to see her eyes, light blue, alive and vivid in a sickly yellow that should have been healthy white.

"Is Ballybran symbiosis what you wish?" she asked.

The eyelids closed firmly once, then twice, and then held Killa's glance with an appeal that was crystal clear.

"What's the prognosis without symbiont?" she asked the medic.

"How she's held on to life this long is beyond me," the medic murmured."A few more days at the most, and that's close to miraculous."

"And there's been full Disclosure, to which Donalla has agreed," Killa asked, lightly stressing the girl's name as she regarded the recruitment officer.

He nodded."In strict accordance with regulations.But the parents have to sign in her place since she is unable to.That's also regs."

"So what is your problem?"

"We've heard tales…" the mother blurted the out while her husband glared suspiciously at Killashandra.

"That the symbiont changes people into monsters?"Killashandra asked, and knew that, indeed, that was their fear.

She snatched an ampoule from the medic's pack, smashed it against the table, and, to the horrified astonishment of those in the room, deliberately gouged her forearm with a shard of the broken glass.The lacerations were satisfactorily long and bled profusely.

"A monster that heals in minutes," Killa said, holding out her arm so that all could see how quickly the symbiont worked to stem blood flow and repair tissue."Sign!" she said to the parents in her most imperious tone."You've got thirty seconds before I leave… without her and her last chance to live."

It didn't take Dian Fiske-Ulass that long to reach for the document and scrawl her signature.She held the stylus out to her husband."What other chance has Donalla got?" she cried.

"None," the medic said firmly, and closed her lips over whatever else she would have added.

With a shrug of angry resignation, the governor took the stylus and scribbled his name, illegible, but embellished with rather fancy amendments."There!You've taken my only daughter from me."

"And you're governor of Fuerte?"Killa asked with contempt and then turned to the medic."Let's get her aboard the shuttle.The Guild Master sent his personal craft."She shot a jaundiced look at Fiske-Ulass.

The others trailed after the float, Dian beginning to sob, the governor trying to recover his public image by appearing sternly resolved.

As soon as the pilot saw them in the corridor, he moved forward to take the front end of the float from Killa, who gently took the other position from the medic.

"Give me your code and I'll let you know the outcome," she told her.

The medic jerked her head back at the retinue."They're all staying on the station until…"

Killashandra snorted."Our head medic will communicate all details to you.What's your name?"

The medic gave her a very odd smile."Hendra Ree."

"Ree?You're a relative?"When the medic nodded, her eyes dancing a bit, Killa went on, "So you knew I was here?"

"You're something of a family legend, and I mentioned you, and Ballybran's symbiont, to Donalla when her condition disimproved," the medic told her as they maneuvered the float into the shuttle.

"Legend?"Killashandra asked, surprised, for she hadn't expected her family to remember her at all, considering she had left the planet in the company of an infamous crystal singer.She strapped in the handles of the float.

"Even in today's sophisticated tech societies, legends have their place."

"No, sir, not even in shuttle," they could hear the pilot saying."Not unless you want to stay.Shards, the air in here was processed on Ballybran.You're getting enough just saying your farewells."

Instantly the governor backed out, restraining his wife from setting foot over the threshold.

The medic gave a little snort, tugged to be sure the straps were secure, and then, in a swift movement, bent to kiss Donalla's cheek."Good luck, kid!" she whispered.

Hendra turned slightly as she left the shuttle and gave Killa a good-luck sign and a broad grin.Was that what you did when you met a family legend?Killa wondered.

"Let's move it," Killashandra said, belting into her seat as the pilot slipped into the control chair.

As soon as he was released from the satellite dock, he contacted Heptite HQ, telling them to be ready to receive the terminally ill applicant.

The medical team was squeezing through the portal before it was fully dilated.As they angled the float out, Killashandra noticed the tear streaks down the sick girl's pallid face.

"You're okay, Donalla?" she asked.

The eyelids closed twice, each time squeezing out tear drops, oddly emphatic in a bizarre fashion.

"I'll keep in touch, kid!"Killa added as the medical team whisked the girl away to the waiting lift.

Donalla wouldn't be in the Infirmary, but in one of the candidate rooms until she became infected with the symbiosis.Killa hoped that it wouldn't take long for a body already weakened and stressed by illness.There was an aura of courage about Donalla that Killa respected, and she hoped that the girl's stupid, bias-ridden parents hadn't dallied away her last hope of life.

She nodded her thanks to the pilot and then strode to the nearest comunit, asking for Lars Dahl.

"You got her?"

"Let's hope in a timely fashion.She's pretty far gone."

Lars gave a grunt."All the easier for the symbiont to get to work-according to Medical."

"By the way, being Fuertan was no help!"Killa grinned at his look of query."Except for the medic."

"That's right, keep me guessing."

"It appears," Killa said with a chuckle, "I'm a family legend."

"And all the time you thought you were a black sheep," Lars replied with a suitably dour expression.

"All this time I thought I had been expunged from the Ree genealogy."

"Well, well!Life has its little surprises, does it not?"

"When one can remember them!"