flexed her fingers, pulled out the appropriate stops, and did a rapid dance

on the foot pedals to test their reactions.

        Diplomatically she began with the opening chords of a Fuertan love

song, reminiscent of one of the folk tunes that she´d heard that first

magical night on the beach with Lars. The keyboard had an exquisitely light

touch and, knowing herself to be rather heavy handed, she tried to find the

right balance, before she began the lilting melody. Even playing softly and

delicately, she felt, rather than heard, the sound returning from the

perfect acoustics of the auditorium. The phase shield around the organ

protected her from the full response.

        Playing this Festival organ was an incredible, purely musical

experience as she switched to lowest manual for the bass line. For her as a

singer, keyboards had been essential only as accompaniment, tolerated in

place of orchestra and choral augmentation. She might have been

supercilious about the Optherian contention that an organ was the ultimate

instrument, but she was willing to revise her opinion of it upward. Even

the simple folk song, embellished with color, scent and »the joy of

spring,« she thought sardonically, was doubly effective as a mood setter

when played on the Optherian organ. She was sorely tempted to reach up and

pull Out a few of the stops that ringed the console.

        Abruptly she changed to a dominant key and a martial air, lots of

the bass notes in a sturdy thumpy-thump, but half-way through she tired of

that mood, and found herself involved in the accompaniment to a favorite

aria. Not wishing to spoil the rich music by singing, she transferred the

melodic line to the manual she had just repaired, taking the orchestra part

in the second manual and the pedal bass. The tenor´s reprise naturally

followed, on the third manual, mellower than the soprano range. From that

final chord, she found herself playing a tune, filling in with a chorded

bass, and not quite certain what tune it was when she felt someone pinch

her hip. Her fingers jerked down the keys just as she realized that it was

Lars´s melody she was rehearsing. She made the slip of her fingers into the

first music that came to mind, an ancient anthem with distinct religious

overtones. She ended that in a flourish of keyboard embellishments and,

with considerable reluctance, lifted her hands and feet from the organ,

swiveling around on the seat.

        Lars, being nearest, took her hand to ease her to the ground from

the high organ perch. The pressure of his fingers was complimentary, if the

arch of his eyebrows chided her for that slip. It was the surprise on Elder

Ampris´s face that pleased her the most.

        »My dear Killashandra, I had no idea you were so accomplished,« he

said with renewed affability.

        »Woefully out of practice,« she said demurely, though she knew that

she had struck few wrong notes and her sense of tempo had always been

excellent. »Almost a travesty for someone like me to play on that superb

organ, but I shall remember the honor for the rest of my life.« She meant

it.

        There was a general sort of highly audible reshuffling as the

security men permitted a handful of hesitant new arrivals closer to the

console. Some nervous clearings of throats and foot scufflings also echoed

faithfully about the auditorium.

        »Balderol´s students,« Elder Ampris murmured by way of explanation.

»To practice for the concerts now the organ is repaired.«

        At a glance, Killashandra decided there must be nine security men

for each student. She smiled kindly, then noticed out of the corner of her

eye that a solid line of the biggest security men stood shoulder to

shoulder in front of the door to the organ loft. Were they glued to their

posts?

        »Well, let´s leave them to it,« she said brightly. »Don´t you have

some students for Trag and myself? To learn crystal tuning? They must have

perfect and absolute pitch, you know,« she reminded Elder Ampris as they

left the stage. Her voice sounded dead as her final words were spoken in

less resonant surroundings.

        »That is not scheduled until tomorrow, Killashandra,« Ampris said,

mildly surprised. »I had thought that you and Guildmember Trag should take

this opportunity to see the rest of the Conservatory.«

        That was not high on Killashandra´s list of priorities but since

she was momentarily in Ampris´s good graces, she should make an effort to

stay there. She was not best pleased when Ampris turned the projected tour

over to Mirbelhan, excusing himself on the grounds of urgent administrative

duties. Instead of proving to Ampris that sublimation worked on crystal

singers, she had to watch Lars proving it to Mirbethan while she tried to

attach herself to Trag. At first Trag remained his inscrutable self but

suddenly altered. attentive to her explanations of this classroom, that

theory processor, when the small theater had been added, and which

distinguished composer had initiated what ramification on the Festival

Organ. Had Lars brazenly pinched the impervious Trag? As she trailed behind

the trio, now inspecting the cheerless and sterilely neat dormitories, she

would have been glad enough to receive Lars´s pinch.

        If she had herself been more receptive, she would have been

impressed by the physical advantages of the Conservatory for it was

exceedingly well organized and equipped in terms of practice and

classrooms, library facilities, processing terminals. There was even a

library of books, donated by the original settlers and subsequent visitors.

The actual Conservatory had been designed as a complete unit and built at

one time, only the Festival Auditorium added on at a later date although

included in the original plans. In design it was a complex far superior to

Fuerte´s Music Center, which had sprawled in extensions and annexes with no

basic concept. There was, however, more charm in a corner of Fuerte´s Music

Center than in any of the more elaborate and pretentious chambers of

Optheria´s Conservatory.

        »The Infirmary is this way.« Mirbethan´s unctuous voice broke

through Killashandra´s sour reflections.

        »I´ve been there,« she said in a dry and caustic tone and Mirbethan

had the grace to look embarrassed. Then she gave Lars a penetrating look

which he returned with an impudent wink. »And I´m hungry. We didn´t eat any

lunch in order to get the installation completed.«

        Mirbethan was full of apologies and, when both Trag and Lars said

they were sure the Infirmary was of the same high standard as the rest of

the premises, she led them back to their quarters.

        Once inside, Lars ostentatiously activated the jammer and

Killashandra heaved a sigh of relief. She hadn´t realized how tense she´d

become.

        »I´m hungry, that´s all, I´m hungry,« she told herself as she made

her way to the caterer.

        »Where did you find the subliminal unit, Trag?« Lars asked, pausing

at the drinks cabinet.

        »Under the stage, but keyed by the same motif. For clever men, the

Elders can be repetitive.«

        Killashandra gave a contemptuous snort. »Probably can´t remember

anything more complicated at their advanced ages.«

        »Don´t make the mistake of underestimating them, Killashandra,«

Trag said solemnly as he poured himself a blew.

        »Let them have that privilege,« Lars added. »Sententious bastards.

We´re down to Bascum, Killa.«

        »Well, that goes well with the fish, which seems the only thing

left on today´s menu.«

        Lars guffawed. »It always is. Take the soup instead,« he said in a

tone that suggested dire experience. »And don´t, Killa, play my music again

in the Conservatory,« he added, waggling a finger at her. »Balderol heard

me practice often enough.«

        »I won t say I´m sorry,´ Killashandra replied. »It just happened to

develop from the previous chord. It´s probably the most original music ever

played on that organ if what we heard last night is standard.«

        »They don´t want originality, Killa,« Lars said with a twist to his

smile. »They want more of the same that they can orchestrate to

mind-penetration. Trag, what did Ampris say about your doing the provincial

organs?«

        »I haven´t suggested it. Yet. There has been no opportunity.«

        Lars looked anxious. »I´m the one who´s greedy now. Disabling their

program in the City is a big step forward because so many provincials make

the trek here in order to say they´ve heard the Festival Organ, But they´re

not the ones who´d be recruited to Ampris´s punitive force. So they´re the

ones we want to keep unaffected this year.«

        »Who else has access to the organ lofts?« Trag asked.

        »Only . . . Ah!« Lars´s expressive face altered to triumph.

»Comgail never got the chance to make his annual inspection of the other

facilities. And maintenance is Ampris´s responsibility, not Torkes. He´ll

have to use you and Killa, Trag. He hasn´t anyone else. And he certainly

wouldn´t entrust maintenance to the puff heads you´re supposed to initiate

into the art of crystal tuning.«

        »Especially not you, Lars,« said Killashandra with a laugh.

        »Let´s not continue that part of the farce. Killa,« Lars said.

        »Why not?« asked Trag. »I think you must realize that we will not

leave you on this planet, no matter how cleverly you could hide yourself

amid your islands, Lars Dahl. Crystal tuning is a universal skill.«

        »So is sailing, Trag.«

        »But let us continue as we have started. Farce or not, it keeps you

in our company and safe.«

        »Trag, are you recruiting?« Even to herself, Killashandra sounded

unnecessarily sharp.

        Trag turned his head slowly to look at her, his heavy features

expressionless. »Recruiting is not permitted by the FSP, Killashandra Ree.«

        She snorted, »Neither is subliminal conditioning, Trag Morfane!«

        Lars looked from one to the other, grinning at this evidence of

unexpected discord. »Here, here, what´s this?«

        »An old controversy,« Killashandra replied quickly. »If all the

provincial organs need at least basic maintenance, then you and I, Trag,

are the only qualified technicians on Optheria. Ampris will have to ask

you, for I can´t see him asking me, and that solves that problem, doesn´t

it?«

        »It should,« Lars replied, grinning at her for her change of

subject and the facile solution.

        »We shall see.« Trag added, rising to refill his glass.

        »I need a bath,« Killashandra said, rising. »After a morning spent

with Ampris, I feel unclean!«

        »Now that you mention it,« Lars murmured and followed her.

 

        A stolid security man drove the small ground vehicle that evening.

Its plasglas canopy gave her an unobstructed view of the City in its

tortured sprawl as she was driven sedately down from the Conservatory

prominence. The spring evening was mild and the sky cloudless. Quite

likely, Killashandra thought, she was seeing the City at its best, for

spring growth hazed most of the vegetation with a delicate green, gold, or

fawn brown, providing some charm to the otherwise sterile buildings. The

residential dwellings often sported vines, now sprouting a bright orange

leaf or blossom.

        Most of the traffic was pedestrian, though a few larger

goods-carrying vehicles intersected their route through the winding streets

of the City. There seemed to be no visible roadway controls but her driver

slowed to a complete halt at several cross streets. At one, she received

incurious glances from the several pedestrians halted on the footpaths.

Doubtless all good Optherians were at home with their families at that

hour, and the few people that Killashandra did pass looked glum, anxious,

or determined. It occurred to Killashandra that she missed the

light-hearted islanders with their ready smiles and generally pleasant

behavior. She´d seen very few genuine or lasting smiles in the

Conservatory: a perfunctory movement of the lips, a show of teeth but no

genuine delight, pleasure, or enthusiasm. Well, what else could she expect

in such a climate?

        She spotted the Piper Facility before the driver turned up the

broader thoroughfare to it. It hung, block-square and utilitarian, like

hostels anywhere, even Fuerte. She had once thought the native orangy-red

sandstone of Fuerte garish and common but she could feel almost nostalgic

for its hominess. Certainly the relaxed and random designs of Fuertan

architecture were a patch above Optheria´s contorted constructions.

        The timepiece above the entrance of the Piper Facility flashed a

big 1930 as the driver reduced the forward speed of the vehicle. Precisely

then, the main door slid aside and Corish, looking tanned and expectant,

emerged. Immediately he saw Killashandra, he smiled a warm and enthusiastic

welcome.

        »Right on the dot, Killashandra, you´ve improved!« he said, giving

her an unnecessary assist out of the vehicle.

        »Thank you, driver,« Killashandra said. »I really need to stretch

my legs, Corish. Let´s walk to the restaurant if it isn´t far. I felt

awfully conspicuous where so few people use ground transport.«

        »Have you paid him?« Corish asked, reaching into his belt pouch.

        »I told you I could,« she began in a sulky voice and made shooing

gestures at the driver. The man reengaged the drive and the vehicle slid

slowly away. »I´m being monitored, Corish, and we need to talk,« she said,

cocking her head up at him with an apologetic expression on her face.

        »I thought so. I´m told to try the Berry Bush so I expect it´s got

monitors in the utensils. This way.« Corish cupped his hand under her

elbow, guiding her in the right direction. »It´s not far. I´m only just

back from Ironwood.«

        »Lars is in a swivet about Nahia and Hauness.«

        »They´re all right . . .« and Corish´s tone of voice added so far,

»but the search and seize continues! Hauness is convinced that the Elders

mean to rouse a punitive expedition against the islands. In spite of your

safe return.«

        »Torkes doesn´t believe in coincidence. More important . . .« and

Killashandra broke off, stunned by the look of pure hatred on the face of a

woman passing by. Killashandra glanced around but the woman had not paused

or accelerated her pace.

        »More important?« Corish prompted, his hand impelling her to keep

pace with him.

        With an effort, Killashandra redirected her attention, but an

afterimage of the intensity of that expression burned in her mind.

        »The Elders use subliminal conditioning.«

        »My dear Killashandra Ree, that is a dangerous allegation.« Corish

tightened his fingers on her arm, shocked by her statement. He looked

about, to see if any of the few passers-by could have overheard.

        »Allegation, fardles! Corish. They blasted last night´s audience

with it,« she said, only barely able to keep her intense indignation at the

conversation level. »Security, pride, and sex was the dose. Didn´t Olav

mention subliminals to you? He knows about them.«

        Corish wet his mouth in a grim line. »He mentioned them but he

could provide me with no proof.«

        »Well, I can swear to it, and so can Trag. He disconnected the

processor on the Festival Organ yesterday -- while we had the chance -- and

the Conservatory instrument today.« She cast him a snide sideways glance.

»Or should we have waited until tomorrow night so you´d have firsthand

experience?«

        »Of course I trust Trag´s evidence . . . and yours.« He added the

last in an afterthought. »How were you able to find the equipment? Wasn´t

it well hidden?«

        »It was. Shall we say a joint effort -- the murdered Comgail, Lars,

and Trag. It wasn´t crystal that killed Comgail, and I never could see how

it had, but a desparate man. Probably Ampris. There´ll be enough witnesses

to testify before the Federation Council. Nahia and Hauness too, if we can

get them out.«

        »You´ll never get Nahia to leave Optheria,« Corish said, shaking

his head sadly. He gestured for them to make a right turn at the next

junction. The smell of roasting meats and frying foods greeted their

nostrils, not all of it appetizing. But this was clearly a catering area.

Open-front stalls served beverages and a pastry-covered roll -- with a hot

filling to judge by the expression of a man cautiously munching one.

        »If we could get anyone out,« Corish said gloomily. »They´re all in

jeopardy now.«

        »Which is why we want you to contact Olav and get him and . . .«

        A change in air pressure against her back gave Killashandra only a

second´s warning but she had turned just enough to deflect the long knife

descending to her back. Then a second knife caught her shoulder and she

tried to roll away from her assailants, hearing Corish´s hoarse cry.

        »Lars!« she shouted as she fell, trying to roll away from her

attackers. »Lars!« She had become too used to his presence. And where was

he when she really needed him? The thought flitted even as she tried to

protect herself from the boots kicking her. She tried to curl up, but hard

rough hands grabbed at arms and legs. Someone was really attempting to

kidnap her, even with Corish beside her. He was no bloody use! She heard

him yelling above the unintelligible and malevolent growls of the people

beating her. There were so many, men and women, and she knew none of them,

their faces disguised by their hatred and the insanity of violence. She saw

someone haul back a man with a knife raised to plunge into her, saw a face

she knew -- that woman from the street. She heard Corish howling with fury

and then a boot connected with her temple and she heard nothing else.

 

Chapter 24

 

Of the next few days, Killashandra had only disconnected memories. She

heard Corish arguing fiercely, then Lars, and under both voices, the rumble

of Trag who was, she thought even in her confusion and welter of physical

pain, laying down laws. She was aware of someone´s holding her hand so

tight it hurt, as if she didn´t have enough wounds, but the grasp was

obscurely comforting and she resisted its attempt to release hers. Pain

came in waves, her chest hurt viciously with every shallow breath. Her back

echoed the discomfort, her head seemed to be vibrating like a drum, having

swollen under the skull.

        Pain was something not even her symbiont could immediately suppress

but she kept urging it to help her. She chanted at it, calling it up from

the recesses of her body to restore the cells with its healing miracle,

especially the pain. Why didn´t they think about thc pain? There wasn´t a

spot on her body that didn´t ache, pound, throb, profest the abuse that she

had suffered. Who had attacked her and why?

        She cried out in her extremity, called out for Lars, for Trag who

would know what to do, wouldn´t he? He´d helped Lanzecki with crystal

thrall. Surely he knew what to do now? And where had Lars been when she

really needed him? Fine bodyguard he was! Who had it been? Who was the

woman who hated her enough to recruit an army to kill her? Why? What had

she done to any Optherians?

        Someone touched her temples and she cried out -- the right one was

immeasurably sore. The pain flowed away, like water from a broken vessel,

flowed out and down and away, and Killashandra sank into the gorgeous

oblivion which swiftly followed painlessness.

 

        »If she had been anyone else, Trag, I wouldn´t permit her to be

moved for several weeks, and then only in a protective cocoon,« said a

vaguely familiar voice. »In all my years as a physician, I have never seen

such healing.«

        »Where am I going? I´d prefer the islands,« Killashandra said,

rousing enough to have a say in her disposition. She opened her eyes,

half-expecting to be in the wretched Conservatory Infirmary and very well

satisfied to find that she was in the spacious bed of her quarters.

        »Lars!« Hauness called jubilantly. His had been the familiar voice.

        The door burst inward as an anxious Lars Dahl rushed to her

bedside, followed by his father.

        »Killa, if . . . you knew . . .« Tears welling from his eyes, Lars

could find no more words and buried his face against the hand she raised to

greet him. She stroked his crisp hair with her other hand, soothing, his

release from uncertainty.

        »Lousy bodyguard, you are . . .« She was unable to say what crowded

her throat, hoping that her loving hand conveyed something of her deep

feeling for him. »Corish was no use, after all.« Then she frowned. »Was he

hurt?«

        »Security says,« Hauness replied with a chuckle, »he lifted half a

dozen of your assailants and broke three arms, a leg, and two skulls.«

        »Who was it? A woman . . .«

        Trag moved into her vision, registering with a stolid blink that

her hands were busy comforting Lars Dahl. »The search and seize stirred up

a great deal of hatred and resentment, Killashandra Ree, and as you were

the object of that search, your likeness was well circulated. »Your

appearance on the streets made you an obvious target for revenge.«

        »We never thought of that, did we?« she said ruefully.

        The movement to her right caused her to flinch away and then offer

profuse apologies, for Nahia was moving to comfort the distraught Lars.

        »So you took the pain away, Nahia? My profound thanks,«

Killashandra said. »Even crystal singer´s nerve ends don´t heal as quickly

as flesh.«

        »So Trag told us. And that crystal singers cannot assimilate many

of the pain-relieving drugs. Are you in any pain now?« Nahia´s hands gently

rested on Lar´s head in a brief benison, but her beautiful eyes searched

Killashandra´s face.

        »Not in the flesh,« Killashandra said, dropping her gaze to Lars´s

shuddering body.

        »It is relief,« Nahia said, »and best expressed.«

        Then Killashandra began to chuckle, »Well, we achieved what I set

out to do in meeting Corish. Got you all here!«

        »Far more than that,« Trag said as the others smiled. »A third

attack on you gave me the excuse to call a scout ship to get us off this

planet. The Guild contract has been fulfilled and, as I informed the

Elder´s Council, we have no wish to cause domestic unrest if the public

objects so strongly to the presence of crystal singers.«

        »How very tactful of you.« Belatedly remembering caution,

Killashandra looked up at the nearest monitor, relieved to find it was a

black hole. »Did the jammer survive?«

        »No,« Trag said, »but white crystal, in dissonance, distorts

sufficiently. They´ve stopped wasting expensive units.«

        »And . . .« Killashandra prompted, encouraging Trag since he was

being uncharacteristically informative.

        He nodded, Olav´s grin broadened, and even Hauness looked pleased.

»Those shards provide enough white crystal to get the most vulnerable

people past the security curtain. Nahia and Hauness will organize a

controlled exodus until the Federated Council can move. Lars and Olav come

with us on the scout ship. Brassner, Theach, and Erutown are to be picked

up by Tanny in the Pearl Fisher and leave with Corish on the liner -- «

        »Corish?« Killashandra looked about expectantly.

        »He´s searching most thoroughly for his uncle,« Hauness said, »and

attending the public concerts which have been hastily inaugurated, to

soothe a disturbed public.«

        »What´s the diet?«

        »Security, pride, reassurance, no sex,« Hauness replied.

        »Then you didn´t get to the other organs, Trag?«

        »Corish suggested that some should be left in, shall we say, normal

operating condition as evidence, to be seen by the Federal Investigators.«

        »What Trag doesn´t say, Killashandra,« replied Nahia, a luminous

smile gently rebuking the other crystal singer, »is that he refused to

leave you.«

        »As the only way to prevent the Infirmary from interfering with the

symbiont,« Trag said, bluntly, disclaiming any hint of sentiment. »Lars

thought to send for Nahia to relieve pain.«

        »For which I am truly grateful. I´ve only a tolerable ache left.

How long have I been out?«

        »Five days,« Hauness replied, scrutinizing her professionally. He

placed the end of a hand-diagnostic unit lightly against her neck, nodding

in a brief approval of its readings. »Much better. Incredible in fact.

Anyone else would have died of any one of several of the wounds you

received. Or that cracked skull.«

        »Am I dead or alive?«

        »To Optheria?« Trag asked. »No official acknowledgment of the

attack has been broadcast. The whole episode has been extremely

embarrassing for the government.«

        »I should bloody hope so! Wait till I see Ampris!«

        »Not in that frame of mind, you won´t,« Trag assured her,

repressively stern.

        »No more of us for the time being,« Hauness said, nodding

significantly to the others. »Unless Nahia . . . .«

        Killashandra closed her eyes for a moment, since moving her head

seemed inadvisable. But she opened them to warn Hauness from disturbing

Lars, who was still kneeling by the bed. He no longer wept but pressed her

hand against his cheek as if he would never release it. The door closed

quietly behind the others.

        »So you and Olav can just walk into the scout ship?« she asked

softly, trying to lighten his penitence.

        »Not quite,« he said with a weak chuckle, but, still holding her

hand, he straightened up, leaning forward, toward her, on his elbows. His

face looked bleached of tan, lines of anxiety and fear aging him. »Trag and

my father have combined their wits -- and I´m to he arrested by the warrant

Trag has. Don´t worry,« and he patted her hands as she reacted

apprehensively, remembering Trag´s remarks about using the warrant.

»Carefully worded, the warrant will charge me with a lot of heinous crimes

that weren´t actually committed by me, but which will keep Ampris and

Torkes happy in anticipation of the dire punishment which the Federated

Courts dispense for crimes of such magnitude.«

        Killashandra grabbed tightly at his hands, ignoring the spasm of

pain across her chest in her fear for him. »I don´t like the idea, Lars,

not one little bit.«

        »Neither my father nor Trag are likely to put me in jeopardy,

Killa. We´ve managed a lot while you were sleeping it off. When we´re sure

that the scout ship is about to arrive, Trag will confer with Ampris and

Torkes, confronting them with his suspicions about me -- in your delirium

you inadvertently blew the gaff. Trag is not about to let such a desperate

person as me escape unpunished. He has held his counsel to prevent my

escaping justice.«

        »There´s something about this plan that alarms me.«

        »I´d be more alarmed if I had to stay behind,« Lars said with a

droll grin. »Trag won´t give the Elders time to interfere, and they´ll be

unable to protest a Federal Warrant when a Federation scout ship is

collecting me and you and Trag. The beauty part is that thc scout´s the

wrong shape to use the shuttle port facility. Its security arrangements

require open-space landing anyhow. That way my father has a chance of

boarding her.«

        »I see.« The scheme did sound well-planned, and yet some maggot of

doubt niggled at Killashandra -- but her unease could well arise from her

poor state of health. »How did Olav get invited here?«

        »He´d been called in by the Elders on an administrative detail. Why

so few islanders attend concerts« Lars had regained considerable

equilibrium and he rose from his knees, still holding her hand, to sit

beside her on the bed.

        »Who did attack me, Lars?«

        »Some desperate people whose families and friends had been scooped

up by that search and seize. If only I´d been free to get into the

marketplace, Olver would have warned me of the climate of the City. We´d

have known not to let you walk about.«

        »As Corish and I left the Facility, a woman who gave me such a look

of hatred -- «

        »You were spotted long before she saw you, Sunny, driving down from

the Conservatory. If only I´d been with you . . .«

        »Don´t fret about ifs, Lars Dahl! A few aches and pains achieved

what the best laid plans might have failed to do.«

        Lars´s face was a study in shocked indignation.

        »Do you know how badly you were hurt? Hauness wasn´t kidding when

he said you could have died from any one of those wounds, let alone all of

them together. »He held her hand in a crushing grip. »I thought you were

dead when Corish brought you back. I . . .« A sudden look of embarrassment

rippled across his stern face. »The one time you really needed a bodyguard,

I wasn´t there!«

        As you can see, it takes a lot to kill a crystal singer.«

        »I noticed, and don´t wish to ever again.«

        Unwittingly he had reminded them both of the inescapable fact that

their idyll was nearly over. Killashandra couldn´t bear to think of it and

quickly evaded further discussion of that.

        »Lars,« she said plaintively, »at the risk of appearing

depressingly basic, I´m hungry!«

        Lars stared at her in consternation for a moment but he accepted

her evasion and his understanding smile began to replace the sadness in his

eyes.

        »So am I.« Lars leaned forward to kiss her, gently at first and

then with an urgency that showed Killashandra the depths of his

apprehension for her. Then, with a spring in his step and a jaunty set to

his shoulders, he went in search of food.

        Killashandra did have to endure the official apologies and

insincere protestations of the Elders, all nine of them. She made the

obligatory responses, consoling herself with the thought that their days

were numbered, and she would shorten that number as much as possible. She

pretended to be far weaker than she actually was, for once the symbiont

began its work, her recovery was markedly swift. But, for official visits,

she managed to assume the appearance of debility so that her convalescence

had to be supervised by Nahia and Hauness, skilled medical practitioners

that they were. This gave the conspirators ample time to plan an orderly

and discreet exodus of people in jeopardy from Elderly tyrannies.

        Olav had smuggled his miniature detector unremarked into the

Conservatory as a piece of Hauness´s diagnostic equipment. At first they

had been bitterly disappointed when it responded to Lar´s proximity,

despite his pockets being full of white crystal shards. If Trag approached

with Lars, the device remained silent, so Killashandra´s theory that

crystal resonance confused the detector was correct. But her resonance was

gone and, with the imminent arrival of the scout ship, there would be no

chance for Trag to usher a few refugees past the security curtain at the

shuttleport arch.

        Fortunately Lars also remembered that Killashandra had disrupted

the monitors by singing the crystal fragments. These, resonating

discordantly as the wearer hummed, fooled the detector. It was then only a

matter of experimentation to discover just what quantity of crystal

provided adequate shielding. Perfect pitch was actually a handicap, the

more out-of-tune the note, the more the white crystal reacted, and deluded

the detector.

        A week after the attack, Olav had no further excuse to stay at the

Conservatory, and left, it was said, for the islands. He had been able to

convince the Elders of his determination to send more islanders to the

public concerts. Actually, he stayed in the City and made a few minor but

important alterations to his appearance. The next day, he reported to

Hauness and Nahia in Killashandra´s suite, bearing documents that proved

him to be the qualified empath whom Hauness and Nahia had drafted from

their clinic to attend Killashandra. Now that Killashandra was recovering,

they wished to return to their other patients in Ironwood.

        »Nahia´s the one who ought to be leaving,« Lars had bitterly

objected. »She´s the most vulnerable of us all.« »No, Lars,« Trag had said.

»She is needed here, and she needs to be here for reasons which you might

not understand but for which I esteem her.«

        Trag´s unstinted approval of the woman did much to placate Lars but

he told Killashandra that, in leaving, he keenly felt himself the traitor.

        »Then come back with the Revision Force,« she said, more than a

little irritated by Lars´s self-reproach on this and other issues. She

immediately regretted the suggestion at the look of relief in Lars´s face.

But it was a solution which could resolve many of Lars´s doubts, especially

when she knew he loved his home world and would be happy enough sailing the

Pearl Fisher around the islands. She was somewhat relieved that Lars would

be happy on Optheria once the government had been changed. »The Federation

will need people with leadership potential. Trag says it usually takes a

full decade before a new provisional government is appointed, much less

ratified by the Federation. You might even end up a bureaucrat.«

        Lars snorted derisively. »That´s the most unlikely notion you´ve

had. Not that I wouldn´t like to get back here unprejudiced. I´d like to

make sure the change is going to be beneficial.«

        »And ensure that you had official permission to sail about in your

beloved islands.« She managed to keep the bitterness out of her voice for

she could think of many things that a man with Lars´s abilities and talents

could do, once free to move about the galaxy. It rankled that her body was

not sufficiently mended to add that argument to verbal ones. Lars was

treating her as if she were fragile. He was gentle and affectionate. His

caresses, though frequent, were undemanding, leaving her frustrated. He was

so solicitous of her comfort that she was frequently tempted to wreak a bit

of violence on him. Although her jagged, red scars looked more painful than

they were, a lover as considerate as Lars had always been would be

reluctant to approach her. The symbiont couldn´t work fast enough for her.

But would it have repaired her before the scout ship brought them to the

Regulus Federation Base? She tried to overcome her desire for Lars and to

ignore the fact that time was running out for them both.

        It was too soon and not soon enough when Mirbethan communicated the

imminent arrival of the scout ship, the CS 914. Then she was called upon to

witness Trag´s confrontation of Lars, in the presence of the astonished,

and delighted, Elders Ampris and Torkes as the Guildmember, imposing in his

righteous indignation and wrath, accused Lars Dahl of infamous acts against

the person of Killashandra Ree, and displayed the Federal Warrant. Against

Killashandra´s loud cries of distress and disillusionment over her

erstwhile lover´s felonies, Ampris and Torkes struggled to contain their

exultation over the arrest.

        Trag´s timing was superb and his manner so daunting that, with the

Federal Scout ship landed in the shuttleport valley, the Elders were left

with no option but to permit the arrest and the deportation of their erring

citizen. There was no doubt they were delighted, though deprived of the joy

of punishing him, that the Federal justice due to be meted out to Lars Dahl

would be far more severe than their Charter allowed them. Among the others

vindicated by this unexpected climax was Security Officer Blaz, who clamped

restraints on Lars´s wrists with undisguised satisfaction.

        What was supposed to have been a dignified farewell to their

auspicious guests was hastily cancelled by Ampris, waving off the various

instructors and senior students gathered on the steps of the Conservatory.

Presently only Torkes, Mirbethan, Pirinio, and Thyrol were left.

        Lars was strong-armed by Blaz into the waiting transport and it was

difficult for Killashandra not to react to that treatment. Or deliver an

appropriate parting shaft at the officious Blaz. But she was supine on the

grav-stretcher guided by the disguised Olav and she had to concentrate on

looking ill to require the services of an empath.

        When Torkes stepped forward, obviously about to say something which

would nauseate her, she forestalled him. »Don´t jostle me when you load

this floating mattress,« she irritably warned Olav.

        »Yes, let us not unnecessarily prolong our leave-taking,« Trag

said, giving the float a little push into the ground transport. »Scout

pilots are notoriously short-tempered. Is the prisoner secure?« Trag´s

voice was the cold of glaciers as he glanced back at his prisoner, and

Security Captain Blaz growled a reassurance. He had insisted on personally

turning over this felon to the scout captain.

        It was a silent journey, only Blaz enjoying his circumstances. Lars

affected an appropriate dejected, fearful pose, not looking up from his

hand restraints. From her position, Killashandra could see nothing but the

upper stories of buildings and then sky, and they passed so fluidly she

experienced motion sickness; she spoke severely to her symbiont until the

reaction disappeared. Trag was staring stolidly out the window on the seat

in front of her, and Olav was beyond her view. Rather an ignominious

departure to all appearances. And yet, a triumphant one, considering what

she and Trag and Lars had accomplished.

        She contented herself with that reflection but it was with

considerable relief that she saw the spires of the shuttle port appear,

approach, and pass by as the transport was driven to the landing site of

the scout ship. It was on its tail fins, ready for take-off; the mobile

scout pilot waited for her passengers by the lift on the ground.

        »There is no way I am going up that,« and Killashandra pointed to

the lift, »in this,« and she slapped the grav-stretcher

        »Guildmember, you have been -- « Olav began firmly.

        »Don´t ‘Guildmember´ me, medic,« she said, raising up on her elbow.

»Just get me off this thing. I´ll leave this planet as I got on it, on my

own two feet.«

        The transport stopped and Trag and Olav were quick to get her float

out

        »Chadria, Scout Pilot of the CS 914,« said the trim woman in the

Scout Service blue, walking forward to lend an unobtrusive hand. »My ship´s

name is Samel!« A smile lurked in her eyes but fled as Security Officer

Blaz hauled Lars unceremoniously out of the transport and roughly propelled

him to the lift

        »Where do I stow the prisoner, Scout Pilot Chadria?« he said in an

ill-tempered growl.

        »Nowhere until the Guildmembers are settled,« Chadria replied. She

turned to Killashandra. »If you´re more comfortable on the float -- «

        »I am not! »Killashandra swung her legs over the side of the float,

and Olav hastily adjusted its height so that she only had to step off it to

be erect. Lars moved forward but was hauled back to Blaz´s side and she

could see him tensing in rebellion. »Trag!« The man supported her around

the waist. »Permission to come aboard, Chadria, Samel!«

        »Permission granted,« scout and ship replied simultaneously.

        »The unexpected male voice, apparently issuing about his feet,

startled an exclamation out of Blaz. A small, superior smile twitched at

Lars´s lips, hastily erased but reassuring to Killashandra.

        She let herself be conducted to the lift by Trag and the medic,

wondering how Olav would be able to stay if Blaz continued in his officious

manner. There was no hint of uncertainty in either man´s face so she

decided to let them worry about such a minor detail. She remembered to

salute the ship as she stepped aboard.

        »Welcome, Killashandra, Trag. And you, gentle medic.« The ship

spoke in a baritone voice which rippled with good humor. »If you will be

seated, Chadria will be up in just a moment.«

        »How are we going to get rid of Blaz? And keep Olav?« Killashandra

whispered urgently to Trag.

        »Watch,« Samel said and one of the screens above the pilot´s

console lit up, displaying a view of the lift.

        »I´ll take control of this fellow, now,« Chadria was saying as she

pulled a wicked little hand-weapon from her belt. »I was told to secure

quarters aboard. And there´s nothing he can do to escape a scout ship,

Officer. Get on there now, you.«

        The observers could see the conflict in Blaz´s face but Chadria had

pushed Lars onto the lift and stepped on the platform with her back to Blaz

so that there was no room for him to accompany them, and no way to dispute

the arbitrary decision with someone´s back. That maneuver confused Blaz

just long enough. The lift ascended quickly, Blaz watching uncertainly.

        »Permission to board?« Lars said, grinning in at Killashandra.

        »Granted, Lars Dahl!« Samel replied, and Chadria stepped beside

Lars in the airlock, punching out control sequences. The lift collapsed and

secured itself, the airlock door closed, Lars and Chadria stepped into the

cabin while the inner door slid shut with a final metallic thunk. An alarm

sounded.

        On the ground, Blaz reacted to the claxon, suddenly aware that the

medic was still on board and not quite sure if that was in order. The

transport driver shouted at him as the ship´s drive began to rumble above

the noise of the take-off alarm, and Blaz had no recourse but to retreat to

safety.

        »Oh, that was well-done!« Killashandra cried and, finding her legs

a bit unstable in reaction to the final moments of escape, she sank onto

the nearby couch.

        Trag thumbed the bar that released the restraints on Lars´s wrists

and Lars stumbled to enfold Killashandra in his arms.

        »Everyone, take a seat,« Chadria warned, sliding into the pilot´s

gimballed chair. »We were told to make it a fast exit, she added with a

grin. »Okay. Sam, they´re secure. Let´s shake the dust!«

 

Chapter 25

 

Killashandra´s complacency about their confrontation with the Federated

Council on Regulus Base altered drastically as the CS 914 began its final

approach to the landing strip. The building which housed the administrative

offices for that sector of the Federated Sentient Planets covered an area

slightly more than twenty klicks square.

        Chadria cheerfully informed her passengers that there was as much

again in subterranean levels as above ground, and some storage areas delved

as much as a half a klick below Regulus´s surface. Monorail lines connected

the sprawling offices with the residential centers thirty and forty klicks

away, for most of the workers preferred the nearby valleys and the many

amenities available there. Regulus was a good post for everyone.

        From a distance, the profile was awe inspiring. The random pattern

of rectangular extrusions above the mass of the complex was silhouetted

against the light green early-morning sky. Even Trag was impressed, a

reaction which did nothing to assuage Killashandra´s growing sense of

doubt. She inched as close to Lars as possible and felt him return the

pressure in an answering need for tactile reassurance. But he was nowhere

near as tense as she was. Perhaps she was just hypersensitive due to her

recent ordeal. As they approached, the building dominated the landscape to

the exclusion of any other features on Chinneidigh Plain. Skimmers could

then be seen landing and taking off at the myriad entrances, each

embellished with official symbols depicting the department housed within.

        We re cleared to land at the Judicial Sector,« Chadria said,

swinging about in her gimballed chair. »Don´t look so worried.« She grinned

up at the three. »They don´t leave you hanging about here for weeks on end.

You´ll know by midday. It´s anticipation that gets to you, and waiting!«

        Killashandra knew that Chadria meant to reassure them, for both

brain and brawn partners had been excellent hosts, with stories scurrilous

and amusing, and stocks of exotic foods and beverages in the scout ship´s

well-stocked larder to tempt every taste. With exquisite tact, the others

had left Killashandra and Lars to enjoy their own company for the week in

which the CS 914 hurtled from one corner of the sector to the Regulan

planet at its center. Courtesy, however, had dictated to both Lars and

Killashandra that they join the others at mealtimes and for evening

conversations, and the occasional rehearsals of Lars´s defense against the

warrant´s charges. Trag and Olav had begun a friendly competition over a

tri-dimensional maze game which could last up to a day between well-matched

players. Chadria and Samel had teamed up against the two men in another

contest, one of multiple-choice, which could be expanded to include Lars

and Killashandra whenever they chose to play.

        There was a strange dichotomy about that journey: the tug between

learning more of each other´s minds and sating their bodies and senses

sufficiently to cushion the imminent parting. On the final day, it was more

than Killashandra or Lars could endure to make love: instead they sat close

together, one pair of hands linked, playing the maze game with an intensity

that bordered the irrational.

        Now Chadria swung back to the screens as their progress to the

landing site closed with the linear diagram Samel displayed on the

situation screen. Killashandra could not restrain the small gasp nor her

instinct to clutch at Lars´s hands as the two positions matched and the

scout ship settled to the ground.

        »Here we are,« Samel said in a tactfully expressionless tone.

»Ground transport is approaching. Glad to have had you all aboard and I

hope that Chadria and I will meet you again.«

        Chadria lifted her long frame from the chair, shaking hands with

each one in turn, clasping Killashandra´s with an encouraging smile and

giving Lars an impish grin before she kissed his cheek in farewell. »Good

luck, Lars Dahl! You´ll come out on top! Feel it in my bones.«

        »Me. too,« Samel added, and opened the two lock doors.

        Killashandra wished that she felt as positive. Then, suddenly,

there was no way to evade the inevitable. They picked up their carisaks and

filed out. Trag and Olav took the lift down first, permitting Lars and

Killashandra a few moments privacy.

        Killashandra didn´t know what she had expected but the ground

transport was a four-seat skimmer, remote controlled, the

purple-gold-and-blue emblem of the FSP Judiciary Branch unobtrusively

marking the door panel. She took in a deep breath. Looking off to the

massive tower of the entrance. As she had done for several days, she

repeated to herself that »justice would prevail,« that the much edited

wording of the warrant would support their hopes. And that the disclosure

of subliminal conditioning would result in the swift dispatch of a

revisionary force to overthrow the Elders´ tyranny on Optheria.

        But one Killashandra Ree, one-time resident of the planet Fuerte,

barely four years a member of the Heptite Guild, had had no encounters at

all with Galactic Justice, and feared it. She had never heard or known

anyone who had been either defendant or plaintiff at an FSP court. Her

ignorance rankled and her apprehension increased.

        Silently the four settled into the skimmer and it puffed along on

its short return journey. It did not, as Killashandra half expected, stop

at the imposing entrance. It ducked into an aperture to one side, down a

brightly lit subterranean tunnel, and came to a gentle stop at an unmarked

platform.

        There a man built on the most generous of scales, uniformed in the

Judicial Livery, awaited them. In a state of numbness, Killashandra

emerged.

        »Killashandra Ree,« the man said, identifying her with a nod, not

friendly but certainly not hostile. »Lars Dahl, Trag Morfane, and Olav

Dahl.« He nodded politely as he identified each person. »My name is

Funadormi, Bailiff for Court 256 to which this case is assigned. Follow

me.«

        »I am Agent Dahl, number -- «

         1 know,« the man said pleasantly enough. »Welcome back from exile.

This way.« He stepped aside to allow them to enter the lift which had

opened in the wall of the platform. »It won´t take long.«

        Killashandra tried to convince herself that his manner was

reassuring if his appearance was daunting. He towered above them and both

Lars and Trag were tall men. Killashandra and Olav were not many

millimeters shorter but she had never felt so diminished by sheer physical

proportions. The lift moved, stopped, and its door panel slid open to a

corridor, stretching out in either direction, pierced by atriums with trees

and other vegetation. Gardens seemed an odd decorative feature of a

Judicial building but did nothing to buoy Killashandra´s spirits. She

rearranged her fierce grasp on Lars´s fingers, hoping that Funadormi did

not see it and that he did, to show this human representative of the Courts

that Lars Dahl had her total support.

        Funadormi gestured to the left and then halted their progress at

the second door on the left, which bore the legend »Grand Felony Court

256.«

        Killashandra reeled against Lars Dahl, Trag behind him placed a

reassuring hand on his shoulder, and Olav straightened his lean frame

against the imminent testing of a scheme that had been entered rather

lightheartedly.

        Funadormi thumbed open the panel and entered. It was not the sort

of chamber Killashandra would have recognized as judicial. She did

recognize the psychological testing equipment for what it was, and the

armbands on the chair beside it. Fourteen comfortable seats faced that

chair and the wall screens and a terminal which bore the Judicial Seal. A

starred flag of the Federated Sentient Planets bearing the symbols

indicating the nonhuman sentient species was displayed in the corner.

        The door panel wkooshed shut behind them and Funadormi indicated

that they were to be seated. He faced the screen, squared his shoulders,

and began the proceedings.

        »Bailiff Funadormi in Grand Felony Court 256, in the presence of

the accused, Lars Dahl, remanded citizen of the planet Optheria; the

arresting citizen, Trag Morfane of the Heptite Guild; the alleged victim,

Killashandra Ree, also of the Heptite Guild; and witness for the accused,

Olav Dahl, Agent Number AS-4897/KTE, present at this sitting. Accused is

restrained under Federal Sentient Planet Warrant A-1090088-O-FSP55558976.

Permission to proceed.«

        »Permission is granted,« replied a contralto voice, deep and oddly

maternal, definitely reassuring. Killashandra could feel her muscles unlock

from the tenseness in which she had been holding herself. »Will the accused

Lars Dahl be seated in the witness chair?«

        Lars gave her hand a final squeeze, smiled with a cocky wink at

her, rose, and look the seat. The Bailiff attached the arm cuffs and

stepped back.

        »You are charged with the willful abduction of Heptite Guild member

Killashandra Ree, malicious invasion of the individual´s right to Privacy,

felonious assault, premeditated interference with her contractual

obligation to her Guild, placing her in physical jeopardy as to shelter and

sustenance, deprivation of independent decision and freedom of movement,

and fraudulent representation for purposes of extortion. How do you plead,

Lars Dahl?« The voice managed to convey an undertone of regretful

compassion, and an invitation to confide and confess. Highly sensitized to

every nuance. Killashandra wondered if, by some bizarre freak, the Judicial

Branch might actually be guilty of a subtle use of subliminal manipulation

in that persuasive voice.

        »Not guilty on all counts,« Lars answered quietly, and firmly, as

he had rehearsed.

        And. Killashandra reassured herself, he was not, by the very

wordage that Trag and Olav had cleverly employed.

        »You may testify on your own behalf.« The request was issued in a

stern. uncompromising tone.

        Although Killashandra listened avidly to every word Lars said in

rebuttal and in explanation, tried to analyze the terse questions put to

him by the Judicial Monitor, she was never able to recall the next few

hours in much detail.

        He was completely candid, as he had to be, to discharge the

accusations. He explained how Elder Ampris, superior to Lars Dahl, student

in the Conservatory and as a ruling Elder of the Optherian Council, had

approached him, citing the dilemma about Killashandra´s true identity and

the request to wound her, resolving the quandary. His reward was the

promise of reconsidering Lars´s composition. The point that Lars had been

coerced to perform a personally distasteful act by an established superior

was accepted by the Court. To the charge that the abduction was

premeditated, Lars explained that he had come upon the victim unexpectedly

in an unprotected environment and acted spontaneously. He had, it was true,

rendered her unconscious but without malice. She had not even suffered a

bruise. She had been carefully conveyed to a place of security, with tools

and instructions to provide daily food and shelter, so that she had been in

no physical jeopardy. As she had left the premises of her own volition, she

obviously had not been denied independence of decision and movement. He had

not fraudulently represented himself as her rescuer for she had not

required rescue, and she had requested his continued presence as a

safeguard against further physical violence from any source on Optheria. He

had not premeditated any interference on her contractual obligation to her

Guild for he had not only assisted her in repairing the damaged manual, her

preemptive assignment, but he had also provided her with conclusive

evidence to resolve the secondary assignment. He therefore restated his

innocence.

        After Lars gave his testimony, Killashandra was called to the chair

and had to exercise the greatest degree of control to suppress signs of the

stress she felt. It didn´t help to know that the sensitive psych equipment

would record even the most minute tremors and uncertainties of its subject.

That was its function and the results which the Monitor then analyzed

against the psychological profile of each witness. Objectively she was

pleased that her voice didn´t quaver as she supported Lars´s testimony on

each count, managing to publicly absolve him from felonious assault as he

was, in fact, acting even when he abducted her in her best interests,

contractually and personally. She kept her answers concise and unemotional.

Subjectively she had never been so terrified of any experience. And the

equipment would record that as well.

        Trag and Olav had their turns in the witness chair. Each time the

subliminal manipulation was mentioned, there was a significant pause in the

flow of questions, though there was no hint of how this information was

being received and analyzed by the Judicial Monitor, since, in point of

law, this part of everyone´s testimony was irrelevant to the case at hand.

        When Olav resumed his seat between Trag and Lars, the Bailiff

approached the screen. They could all see the activity of the terminal but

the pattern of its flashing lights disclosed nothing. Killashandra, holding

Lars´s hand, jumped an inch above her chair when the contralto voice began

its summation.

        »With the exception of felonious assault, the charges against the

accused, Lars Dahl, are dismissed.« Killashandra swallowed. »Criminal

intent is not apparent but disciplinary action is required by law. Lars

Dahl, you are remanded into the custody of the Judicial Branch, pending

disposition of the disciplinary action. You are further remanded for

examination of the charge of subliminal manipulation against the Elders of

Optheria. Olav Dahl, you are seconded to assist these investigations, which

have now been initiated. Trag Morfane, Killashandra Ree, have you anything

to add to your recorded testimonies on the charge of subliminal

manipulation by the Elders of Optheria?«

        Having already been as candid as possible, neither crystal singer

could expand on the information already on record. And Killashandra did not

quite understand the matter of disciplinary action for Lars and the remand

orders.

        »Then this session of the Grand Felony Court of Regulus Sector

Federation is closed.« The traditional crack of wood against wood ended the

hearing.

        Perplexed by the legal formulas, Killashandra turned to Lars and

his father.

        »Are you free, or what?« she demanded.

        »I´m not quite sure,« Lars said with a nervous laugh. »It can´t

mean much. Everything else was dismissed, wasn´t it?« He looked to Olav and

was sobered by his father´s solemn expression.

        »He has been remanded,« the Bailiff explained kindly, taking Lars

by the arm. »I interpret the judgment to mean that the Court has dismissed

all charges but Lars Dahl´s physical assault on you in the matter of your

abduction. Disciplinary action is always short term. On the second remand

charge, the Court requires further discussion of the allegations about the

use of subliminal conditioning by the Optherian government. If these are

proved correct, then it is likely that the disciplinary action will be

suspended. I can give you hard copy of the precedents involved, indeed of

the entire trial, if you wish.« When Lars nodded a perplexed affirmation,

»Then I shall program them for your quarters. If you gentlemen will come

with me?«

        A panel at the back of the seating area opened and it was toward

this that Funadormi gestured Lars and his father.

        »Come with you?« Lars cried, trying to break from the Bailiff´s

grip.

        Shock and surprise briefly immobilized Killashandra and before she

could make a move to reach Lars, the Bailiff, securely holding her lover,

had him nearly to the open door.

        »Wait! Please wait!« she screamed, falling over the chairs in her

haste.

        »You two have been dismissed. Justice has been served! Arrangements

for your transport have been made and the ground vehicle programmed to take

you to the appropriate site.«

        »But -- Lars!« Killashandra´s cry of protest was made to the

immense back of the Bailiff which was disappearing through the aperture,

totally eclipsing Lars. Olav hurried anxiously after, adding his protests.

»Lars Dahl!« she screamed, every fear alerted to his unexpected departure.

The panel closed with a final thuck just as Killashandra reached it.

        »Justice has been served?« she shrieked, beating the wall with

impotent fists. »What justice? What justice? LARS DAHL! Couldn´t they let

us say good-bye? Is that justice?« She wheeled on Trag who was trying to

silence her tactless accusations. »You and your fool-proof verbiage.

They´ve charged him after all. I want to know why and what does

disciplinary action mean for a man who´s put himself on the line for a

whole benighted fardling useless planet?«

        »Killashandra Ree,« and both crystal singers turned in astonishment

as the voice issued unexpectedly from the wall. »During your evidence, your

psychological reactions exhibited extreme agitation and apprehension --

unusual when compared to your official profile -- which have been

interpreted as fear of the accused, despite your generous testimony to his

actions against you. Disciplinary action will prevent the accused from any

future acts of felonious assault.«

        »WHAT?« Killashandra could not believe what she had heard. »Of all

the ridiculous interpretations! I love the man! I love him, do you hear, I

was frantic with worry for him, not against him. Call him back. There´s

been a dreadful miscarriage of justice.«

        »Justice has been served, Killashandra Ree. You and Trag Morfane

are scheduled to leave this Court and this building immediately. Transport

awaits.«

        The silence after that impersonal order provoked a thunder of

tinnitus in her skull.

        »I don´t believe this, Trag. This can´t be right. How do we

appeal?«

        »I do not believe that we can, Killashandra. This is the Federal

Court. We have no right of appeal. If there is one available to Lars, I am

certain that Olav will invoke it. But we have no further right. Come. Lars

will he taken care of.«

        »That´s what I´m fardling afraid of,« Killashandra cried. »I know

what penalties and disciplines the Judicial Branch can use. I had Civics

like any other schoolchild. I can´t go, Trag. I can´t leave him. Not like

this. Not without any sort of a . . .« Tears so choked her that she could

not continue and a sudden disastrous inability to stand made her wobble so

that Trag only just kept her from falling.

        She didn´t realize at first that Trag was supporting her out of the

room. When she found them in the hall, she tried to wrench herself out of

Trag´s grasp but there was someone else by then, assisting Trag and between

the two of them, she was wrestled into the lift. She struggled, screaming

imprecations and threats, and although she heard Trag protesting as sternly

as he could, she was put in padded restraints. The ignominy of such a

humiliating expedient combined with fear, disappointment, and her recent

physical ordeal sent Killashandra into a trembling posture of aggrieved and

contained fury.

        By the time they reached the shuttle transport to the Regulus

transfer moon, she had exhausted her scant store of energy and crouched in

the seat, sullen and silent, too proud to ask for her release from the

restraints. She let Trag and the medic lead her where they would, and

didn´t protest when they undressed her for immersion in a radiant fluid

tank. Legitimate protest and recourse denied her, she submitted to

everything then, despairing and listless. Over and over she reviewed her

moments in the witness chair, when her body, the body which had loved and

been loved so by Lars, had betrayed them both with false testimony. She was

appalled at that treachery, and obsessed by the horrifying guilt that she,

herself, her anxieties and idiotic presentiments, had condemned Lars on the

one count which had not been dismissed by the Court. She could never

forgive herself. Somehow, sometime, she would be able to face Lars, and beg

his forgiveness. That she promised herself.

        All the way back to Ballybran, she said not a single word to

anyone, nodding or shaking her head in answer to the few questions that

were put directly to her by officials. Trag supervised her meals, immersed

her in radiant fluid whenever such facilities were available, and remained

by her side during her wakeful hours. If he resented her silence or

interpreted it as an accusation, he gave no indication of regret, remorse,

or penitence. She was too immersed in her obsession with the Outrageous

circumstance of Lars´s betrayal to try to explain the complexities of her

depression.

        By the time she and Trag had completed the long journey to

Ballybran´s surface, Killashandra was completely restored to physical

health. She paused only long enough in her quarters to check, as she had

begun to do toward the end of the trip, with galactic updates. There was no

further word on the Optherian situation beyond the original bulletin

announcing the arrival of Revision troops on the planet to »correct

legislative anomalies.« She refused to consider what that statement might

mean for Lars. Dumping her carisak, she changed into a shipsuit. Then she

headed for the Fisherman´s bailiwick and, with a voice grown gruff from

disuse, demanded her sonic cutter. While waiting for him to retrieve it

from storage, she checked with Meterology and, with a twinge of

satisfaction, learned that the forecast predicted a settled period of

weather for the next nine days.

        She backed her sled out of its rack herself, though she could see

the wild protesting signals of the duty officer trying to abort her

precipitous departure. As soon as she was clear of the Hangar, she poured

on the power and, in an undeviating line, fled for the Ranges.

        It was all part of the miserable web of ironic coincidence that she

found black crystal again in the deep, sunless ravine in which she had

hoped to bury herself and her grief for the reason and manner of her

parting with Lars Dahl.

 

EPILOGUE

 

Stolidly Killashandra watched, arms folded across her breasts, as Enthor

reverently unpacked the nine black crystal shafts.

        »Interstellar, at the least, Killashandra,« he said, blinking his

eyes back to normal vision as he stepped back to sigh over the big

crystals. »And this is all from that vein you struck last year?«

        Killashandra nodded. Not much moved her to words these days.

Working the new claim, she had quickly recouped her losses on the Optherian

contract; Heptite rules and regs had required her to part with a percentage

of that fee to Trag. She accepted that as passively as she had accepted

everything since that day in Court on Regulus. Not even Rimbol had been

able to penetrate her apathy, though he and Antona continued their

attempts. Lanzecki had spoken pleasantly to her after her first return from

the Ranges, complimented her on the new black crystal vein but their early

relationship could never have been revived even if Lanzecki had persisted

        She didn´t see him. She saw no one but Lars, a laughing Lars,

garland-wreathed, his blue eyes gleaming, teeth white in his tanned face,

his bronzed body poised on the deck of the Pearl Fisher. She woke

sometimes, sure she felt his hand on her hip, heard his voice in the

whisper of the wind in the deep ravine, or in the tenor of warming crystal

at noon, when the sun finally touched the cliff. She made two attempts to

succumb to crystal thrall but each time the symbiont had somehow pulled her

back. Not even that enchantment was powerful enough to break through her

emotions, obsessed as she was by the guilty betrayal of her body in the

witness chair on Regulus.

        She had kept informed of the situation on Optheria and often, on

the nights brilliant with crystal song, she composed letters to Lars,

asking to be forgiven that betrayal. She wrote imaginary letters to Nahia

and Hauness, knowing that they would be compassionate, and intercede for

her with Lars. In her better moments, common sense dictated that Lars would

not have held that bizarre psychoanalysis against her for he, of them all,

knew how much she treasured and admired him. But he had not heard her

impassioned plea to the Court, and she doubted if »I love you« had been

included in the hard copy of the hearing transcript. And he had other plans

for the rest of his life.

        She frequently entertained the notion of returning to Optheria to

see how he was getting on, even if she never made actual contact with him.

He might have found another woman with whom he could share his life on

Optheria. Sometimes she returned from the Ranges, full of determination to

end her wretched half-life, one way or another. She had more than enough

credit for a fiercely expensive galactic call: ironically through some of

the black crystal she had herself cut. But would she reach Lars on

Optheria? Maybe, once he had completed that disciplinary action and his

subordination to the Federal investigation of Optheria, he had found

another channel for his abilities and energies. Once he discovered his

freedom to travel the stars, they might have won him from his love of the

sea.

        At her most rational, she recognized all the ifs ands and buts as

procrastination´s. Yet, it was not exactly an unwillingness to chance her

luck that restrained her: it was a deep and instinctive »knowing« that she

must remain in this period of suspension for a while yet. That she had to

wait. When the time was right, action would follow logically. She settled

down to wait, and perfected the art.

 

        »You´re in early, too, you know,« Enthor was saying to her. »Storm

warnings only just gone out.«

        »Aren´t those good enough?« Killashandra asked. »No need to risk

life and limb, is there?«

        »No, no,« Enthor hastily assured her.

        Killashandra had, in fact, answered the storm warning her symbiont

had given her. She was used to listening to it because it so often proved

the most accurate sense she had.

        »You´ve enough here to spend a year on Maxim,« Enthor went on with

a sly sideways glance. »You haven´t gone off in a long time, Killashandra.

You should, you know.«

        Killashandra shrugged her shoulders, glancing impassively at a

credit line that would once have made her chortle in triumph. »I don´t have

enough resonance to have to leave,« she said tonelessly. »I´ll wait.

Thanks, Enthor.«

        »Killa, if talking would help . . .«

        She looked down at the light hand the old Sorter had put on her

arm, mildly surprised at the contact. His unexpected solicitude, the

concern on his lined face nudged the thick shell which encased her mind and

spirit. She smiled slightly as she shook her head. »Talking wouldn´t help.

But you were kind to offer.«

        And he had been. Sorters and singers were more often at loggerheads

than empathetic. The northeaster which her symbiont had sensed swept a fair

number of singers in from the Ranges to the safety of the Complex. The

lift, the hall, the corridors were crowded but she wended her way through,

and no one spoke to her. She didn´t exist for herself so she didn´t exist

for them.

        The screen in her quarters directed her to contact Antona. There

usually was a message from the medical chief waiting for her. Antona kept

trying to make a deeper contact.

        »Ah, Killa, please come down to the infirmary, will you?«

        »I´m not due for another physical?«

        »No. But I need you down here.«

        Killashandra frowned. Antona looked determined and waited for

Killashandra´s acquiescence.

        »Let me change.« Killashandra brushed at the filthy blouse of her

shipsuit.

        »I´ll even give you time to bathe.«

        Killashandra nodded, broke the connection and, unfastening the suit

as she made her way to the hygiene room, switched on the taps. Though once

-- fresh in from the Ranges -- she might have done, she didn´t luxuriate in

the steaming water. She made a quick but thorough bath, and put on the

first clean clothes she found. Her hair, close crapped for convenience,

dried by the time she reached the Infirmary Level. Her nostrils flared

against the smell of sickness and fever, and the muffled sounds reminded

her of her initial visit to Antona´s preserve. A new class must be passing

through adjustment to the Ballybran symbiont.

        Antona came out of her office, her color high with suppressed

excitement.

        »Thank you, Killa. I´ve a Milekey Transition here whom I´d like you

to talk to, reassure him. He´s positive there´s something wrong.« Her words

came out in a rush, as she dragged Killashandra down the hall, and thrust

her through the door she opened. Impassively, Killashandra noted the

number: it was the same room she had so briefly tenanted five years before.

Then the occupant rose from the bed, smiling.

        »Killa!«

        She stared at Lars Dahl, unable to believe the evidence of her eyes

for she had seen his phantom so often. But Antona had brought her here so

this vision had to be real. Avidly she noted each of the tiny changes in

him: the lack of tan, the gauntness of his shoulders under the light shirt,

the new lines in his face, the loss of that twinkle of gaiety that had been

a trademark of his open, handsome expression. He had subtly aged: no,

matured. And the process had brought him distinction and an indefinable air

of strength and the patience of strength and knowledge.

        »Killa?« The smile had dropped from his face, his half-raised hand

fell to his side as she failed to respond.

        Imperceptibly she began to shake her head, and tentatively, certain

that he would vanish if she admitted to herself that he was flesh, bone,

and blood, her hands began to lift from her sides. Inside her body the cold

knot into which all emotion and spirit had been reduced began to expand,

like a warm draught through her veins. Her mind reverberated with one

exultant conclusion: he was there, and he wouldn´t be if he hadn´t forgiven

her.

        »Lars?« Her voice was a whisper of disbelief but sufficient

reassurance to propel him across the intervening space. Then, as if he

found their reunion as incredible as she, he folded her carefully into his

arms.

        Momentarily she lacked the strength to return the embrace but

burrowed her head into the curve of his shoulder and neck, inhaling the

smell of him, and exhaling into the tears she had kept bottled for the

eternity in which they had been parted.

 

        Lars swept her up in his arms, and carried her to the chair, where

he cradled her, appalled at the wildness of her sobbing and comforting her

with kisses, caresses, and strong embracings.

        »That fardling machine that served justice was never told we were

emotionally attached, the one piece of information that no one but us would

have thought relevant,« he said, releasing in talk the tension he had

endured all through the process of getting to this point when he would be

ready, and able, to meet her again.

        »Then Father found out what had happened and he moved the entire

Department to revoke that judgment on the basis of misinterpretation of

your psychological response. Poor sweet Sunny, so worried about me she

messed us both up.« To her surprise, he chuckled. »You didn´t know that the

only reason that disciplinary action was entered against me was the Court´s

attempt to satisfy what they took to be a suppressed desire for revenge in

you. Justice was being served, blind as it was. Father finally reached a

human in authority, swore blind to half a dozen psych-units that he himself

had hand-fasted us on Angel Island and got the action revoked. D´you know,

that Court Bailiff was a narding construct! No wonder I couldn´t move when

he grabbed me. Then, when we did understand our rights, Trag had already

departed with you.

        »I guess you were pretty upset.«

        At such a massive understatement of fact, she managed to nod,

trying not to laugh at the absurdity, but she couldn´t stop weeping. It had

built up quite a head and it ought to prove conclusively to Lars, if he

needed any, just how much she had missed him. She had waited so long to be

in his arms, to hear his rich and pleasant tenor voice, and the sort of

nonsense he was likely to speak. He could have been speaking gibberish and

she´d have been content to listen. But he was also telling her the things

she would have asked about him, what she needed to know to put some color

in the past dreadful year.

        »Then Father, Corish, and I spent two months processing material

for the Council. Theach, Brassner, and Erutown had come out with Corish and

they got assigned to the Revision Corps until someone in the Council took a

closer look at the equations which Theach was idly calling up on his

terminal.« Lars smiled tenderly as he delicately blotted tears from her

cheeks, then kissed her forehead for such an un-Killashandraish display of

sentimentality. »So he landed on his feet, as usual. Five more people,

including the brewmaster of Gartertown, whom you might remember,« he added,

tapping her nose as he teased, »got out on the next liner and are being

resettled. What had worried Nahia and Hauness was what refugees would do

once they got off Optheria, but there seems to be a resettlement policy.

Not that Optherians have all that many skills to offer the advanced

societies.

        »Father and I got drafted to brief the actual Revision Force. You

see, right after that infamous hearing, several more agents were sent in to

play tourist during the Summer Festival. Good job we left some two-manuals

intact. They came back, reporting that they were subjected to blatant

subliminal conditioning at public concerts in Ironwood, Bailey, Everton,

and Palamo. One thing Father and I emphasized was that the Revision Forces

had better wait until after The Festival or they´d have a bankrupt planet

as well as a disorganized one. So Optheria got its annual chance to acquire

revenue,« and Lars grinned with great satisfaction, »and the Elders hadn´t

twigged to the fact that no subliminal messages were going out on either of

the big Conservatory organs. Leaving the mainlanders quite willing to

accept anything said about them.

        »When we´ve spare time, I´ve got some tapes of the actual landing

and the takeover. Four Elders had fatal seizures but Ampris, Torkes, and

Pentrom will answer to the Supreme Judiciary for their infamous, felonious,

malicious, premeditated, and illegal manipulation of Optherian loyalties.

        »The Revision Forces are well installed now on Optheria . . .« He

looked out with the unfocused gaze of someone imagining a scene and was

briefly sad. He bent to kiss Killashandra again, noting that her tears had

abated and her breath was no longer taken in ragged gasps.

        »Why didn´t you go with them?«

        »Oh, I was given many arguments why I should. Even a rather

complimentary commission. Father returned, but I rather thought he wouldn´t

leave Teradia for long. To my surprise, Corish went, and of course Erutown

and Brassner. I had other plans.«

        Killashandra shook her head in sad rebuke. »If I´d known what you

planned to do . . .« Her gesture included all that his presence in the

infirmary signified.

        Lars hugged her tightly to him. »That´s why I didn´t mention them.

Besides,« and he gave her a raffish look, »I hadn´t really made up my

mind.«

        »How did Trag recruit you then?«

        Lars raised his eyebrows in surprise. »He didn´t. It is illegal to

recruit citizens for the highly dangerous Heptite Guild. Didn´t you know?

Candidly, my beloved Sunny, I was much impressed by Trag´s integrity. It

was refreshing to find an honorable and trustworthy man. It was yourself

who did the recruiting, Killa. You were the embodiment of the undeniable

advantages of being a crystal singer. Your vibrant youth, charm,

invulnerability, indefatigable energy, and resourcefulness. Then all those

diversified assignments, space travel, credit, not to mention the chance to

see a Galaxy I had been denied all my reckless youth -- «

        »You´re mad.« Vitality returned to Killashandra in the form of

exasperation with his flamboyance, and such relief that she was once again

in its presence. »Did you listen to one word I told you about the

disadvantages? Didn´t you pay attention to any of the details in the Full

Disclosure and that isn´t the half of what does happen? As you´ll find out.

How could you be so blind?«

        »None so blind as will not see, eh, Killa, my lovely Sunny? My pale

Sunny, my beloved. Is there no sun on this planet that you are so wan?« He

began to kiss her in a leisurely fashion. »I admit I did hesitate.

Briefly.« His eyes sparkled with his teasing. »Then I ran the entry on

Ballybran itself. That decided me.

        »Ballybran? Ballybran decided you?« Killashandra wriggled about in

his arms, astounded. Not that she understood why she had such ambivalent

reactions to his decision in the first place. He was here! How had she, and

that conniving symbiont of hers, known that he would come? Because she

didn´t think that he wouldn´t´? Long absent, she felt the caress of crystal

along her bones.

        »Of course, Sunny. Now if you´d thought to mention earlier on that

Ballybran has seas -- «

        »Seas?« Killashandra put a hand on his forehead. He must be

feverish. »Seas!«

        »All I´ve ever needed for perfect contentment is a tall ship and a

star to sail her by.« He held her as her temper began to rise, though she

didn´t know if he was mauling that obscure quotation or not. And then, too,

Ballybran has you, beloved Sunny!« His tenor voice dropped to an intense

and passionate whisper, his eyes were an incredible brilliant blue,

dominating her immediate vision. His arms encompassed her in a grip that

reminded her of sun-warmed beaches and fragrant breezes and -- »Show me,

crystal singer, all that Ballybran has to offer me.«

        »Right now?«