Killashandra Part 22

One cuts to earn enough credit for the things one needs and wants." Now why wasn't she being totally honest with Lars? Why didn't she confess that the sole aim of most crystal singers was sufficient credit not to have to sing crystal -- to leave Ballybran for as long as possible?

"I wouldn't have thought crystal singers are so much like islanders," Lars surprised her by saying. "Well, you cut for what you need and want, much as we fish or plant polly, but all we really need is available."

"It's not quite the same thing with crystal," Killashandra said slowly, glad she had been less than honest. Why disillusion Lars needlessly? On so many worlds, in so many minds, there were so many misconceptions about crystal singers, she had not realized how much a relief it was to find an unbiased world -- at least one unbiased with respect to her Guild.

"Cutting crystal seems more dangerous than fis.h.i.+ng." He stroked her scarred hand. "Or learning polly."

"Stick to fis.h.i.+ng, Lars. Crystal's hazardous to your health. Now, we'd best apply ourselves to fulfill my Guild contract with these fardling fools. And maybe shake them out of their organic rut!"

They dressed and then Killashandra entered the number Mirbethan had given her. The woman seemed immensely relieved to accept the call and said that Thyrol would be with them directly.

"D'you suppose he slept in the hall?" Killashandra murmured to Lars as she answered the polite scratching on the hall door. Lars shook his head violently, then held up his hand while he deactivated the jammer and pocketed it. "Good morning, Thyrol. Lead on." She gestured peremptorily, smiling at Thyrol before she noticed two burly men in security uniforms. "I have no need of them!" she said coldly.

"Ah . . . they will not interfere, Guildmember."

"I'll make sure of that, Thyrol. I will need the duragloves -- "

"Everything you requested before your unfortunate disappearance is in the organ loft."

"Oh, very well then. It's gathered dust long enough. Lead on!"

Once again the instinctive reaction to tiptoe and maintain silence affected Killashandra as they emerged onto the stage of the Festival auditorium. She glanced at Lars to see if he was similarly affected. He grimaced slightly and she noticed that his active stride perceptibly altered. She did not miss the almost covetous way he frowned at the covered organ console. And wondered what she could do about that! She had been entranced with the music he played on the twelve-stringed instrument, and she was eager to hear it with organ amplification. Or would that be too cruel an imposition?

As Thyrol used his keys on the panel to the loft, Killashandra wondered if among them were the keys that would allow access to subliminal mechanisms. All three on that ring were apparently needed to open the loft door. Or would someone of Thyrol's rank even know about such a refinement?

She presumed it was limited to Elder rank only, or maybe a Master or two.

They'd need someone with a hefty dab of imagination and energy to create subliminal images. Unless the subliminals reflected the inflexibility of the Elders' att.i.tudes toward everything, which was also logical -- Why search for a template when one was oneself the ultimate role model?

The necessary equipment was indeed in the loft, neatly stacked against one side of the long wall. Lars maintained an att.i.tude of casual indifference after giving the room a sweeping glance. Killashandra noted the monitor buds, caught Lars's glance and gave him a nod. She waited until his hand disappeared into his pocket and then bent over the open console and the glittering shards of crystal.

"Lars Dahl, grab a mask and some gloves, and bring that bin over here. And a mask and gloves for me. I don't fancy inhaling crystal dust in those close quarters." Then she looked up at the burly men taking up so much s.p.a.ce in the loft. "Out!" She flicked her fingers at them. "Out, out, out, out! You're taking up s.p.a.ce and air."

"This room is well ventilated, Guildmember," Thyrol began.

"That is not the point. I dislike observers peering at my every move. There's no need for them. Certainly no one can get in or out of here.

They can stand on the other side of the door and repel boarders! In fact, Thyrol, without meaning offense, your absence would oblige."

"But -- "

"You'll only be hovering. I'm sure you have more important duties than hovering! And you're a distraction -- Or, are you one of those I'm to teach crystal installation?"

Thyrol drew back, affronted by the suggestion and without further protest retired from the loft.

"Now," Killashandra began, not even watching the man leave, "the first thing we must do is clear the shards. Stick to the larger pieces, Lars Dahl. My body deals with cuts more easily than yours. Hang up that lid. We'll put the pieces on that before transferring them to the bin.

Crystal has a disastrous habit of spraying shards when it bounces . . .

Shouldn't want unnecessary accidents to mar this procedure."

"Why'd you want the jammer on in here? Guild secrets?" Lars's voice was m.u.f.fled by the mask.

"I just want them to understand that monitors won't work around me.

I was brought up on a planet that respects privacy and I'm not allowing Optherians to violate that right. Not for all the sensory organs on this narking world. Besides, how else can we search for the access? It would look far odder if suddenly their scanners don't work, than if they haven't worked from the start. Now, let's do what we came for."

It was slow work, especially once Lars had cleared the larger pieces. The extractor could be used only in short bursts; continued suction expelled tiny splinters right through the bag. For that reason, the bag had to be emptied and brushed out after each burst.

"It'd be easier with two of these, wouldn't it?" When Killashandra nodded, Lars strode to the door panel, slid it open, and issued the request. Killashandra heard a murmured reply. "Now, I said! We don't have time to wait for the request to go through Security. By the First Fathers!

Does everything have to be authorized by Ampris. Move it! Now!"

Killashandra grinned at him. Lars's return grin was pure satisfaction.

"If you knew how often I've wanted to bark at a Security man -- "

"I can't honestly imagine you making meek -- "

"You'd be surprised at what I'm willing to do for a good reason."

He gave her a singularly wicked look.

A case of the extractors was delivered in half an hour by an officer whom Lars later told Killashandra was Blaz's second in command, but not a bad fellow for all of that. Castair had been known to look the other way during student romps which Blaz never would have permitted.

"Guildmember," Castair began, as Lars took the case from him, "there's some problem with the monitoring system in here."

"There is?" Killashandra straightened up from the console, glancing about her.

Castair indicated the corner nodules.

"Well, I don't want someone distracting me while I'm doing this.

Your repairs can wait. We certainly are not damaging anything!"

"No, of course not, Guildmember."

"Then leave it for now." She waved him off, bending back to the tedious cleaning before he had left.

"Perfect pitch is not the only talent required to sing crystal."

Lars's comment startled Killashandra as she finally stood erect, arching her back against tight muscles.

"Oh?"

His expression was a mixture of respect and something else. "A crystal singer has total concentration and an absence of normal human requirements -- such as hunger!"

Killashandra twisted her wrist to look at the chrono and chuckled, leaning against the unit behind her. It was mid-afternoon and they had been working steadily since nine that morning.

"You should have given me a nudge."

"Several," Lars said dryly. "I only mention it now because you're looking a bit white under your tan. Here." He thrust a heatpak at her. "I do not have your dedication so I sent for food."

"Without authorization?" Killashandra broke the seal on the soup, aware that she was very hungry indeed.

I took a hint from your manner and pretended they had no option but obedience." He shook his head. "Are all crystal singers like you?"

"I'm pretty mild," she said, sipping carefully at the now heated soup. Lars pa.s.sed her a plate of small sandwiches and crackers. "I only act the maggot when circ.u.mstances require. Especially with this lot of idiots."

She lifted and rotated one shoulder to ease back muscles Lars came to her side, pus.h.i.+ng her away from her perch, and began to ma.s.sage her back. His fingers unerringly found the tension knot, and she murmured her grat.i.tude.

"I hate this part of working in crystal so I'd rather get it over and done with as fast as possible."

"How crucial is the clean sweep?"

Killashandra sang a soft note and the crystal shards answered in a nerve-twitching dissonance.

Lars shook convulsively at the sound which, in spite of being soft, took time to die away. "Wow!"

"White crystal is active, picks up any sound. Leave so much as the minutest particle of crystal dust and it'll jam the manual and produce all kinds of subharmonics in the logic translator. It'd really be easier to start with a brand new manual case but I doubt they'd have spare parts.

Which reminds me -- the ten brackets that I've cleared are all spoiled."

She picked one up, turning the clamping surface so that the scratches picked up the light. "Tighten one of these on a new crystal and you'd create uneven stresses through the long axis of the crystal, introducing spurious piezoelectric effects and probably a flaw in next to no time."

Lars took the bracket from her, hefting it in his hand. "They're no problem. Olver can do them."

Instinctively Killashandra looked up at the monitors as Lars mentioned his contact. She dragged at the fabric of Lars's sleeve and pointed to the surveillance buds, where traces of black had mysteriously appeared to make an aureole about each unit. "Now what did that?"

Killashandra chuckled and pointed to the white crystal. "A secret weapon for you when I leave. Sing white crystal to whatever room you're in and blast the monitors." She reached for one of the larger pieces Lars had cleared away and hefted it. "We'll just save some of this for you. I wonder if Research and Development know about this application of white."

Suddenly Lars had his arms about her, his face buried in her hair, his lips against her neck. She could feel the tension in him and caressed him with gentle hands.

"Oh, Sunny, must you leave?"

She gave him a twisted, rueful smile, gentling the frown from his face with tender fingers "Crystal calls me back, Lars Dahl. It's not a summons I can ignore, and live!"

He kissed her hungrily and as she responded they both caught the slight sound, swiveling away from each other, as the door slid open.

"Ah, Elder Ampris," Killashandra said, "your arrival is most opportune. Show him the bracket, Lars Dahl," and when Ampris regarded this unusual offering with amazement, "run your fingers over the clamping edge .

. . carefully . . . and feel how rough it is. We're going to need some two hundred of these, for I'm not about to trust new crystal in old brackets.

All I've removed so far have been scratched just like that one. Will you authorize the order -- and designate it is urgent?"

Killashandra snapped her mask back over her face and picked up the brush. Then she swore.

"I could also use a handlight of some sort. Some of this wretched stuff is like powder."

Elder Ampris peered in and she heard his intake of breath. She straightened, regarding him pa.s.sively, seeing the stern accusation in his eyes.

"Let me demonstrate, Elder Ampris, the need for meticulous care."

She hummed, more loudly then before, and took great delight in its effect on the man. "Sorry about that." She resumed work.

"I came to inquire, Guildmember, how soon the repairs would be completed."

"Since the idiot who smashed the manual put his heart in the destruction, it's going to take a lot more time than it did for me to remove one shattered crystal from the cruiser drive -- if that's the comparison you were using." Killashandra sighed, and looked disconsolately at the crystal ruin. "It's slow going because of the nature of crystal and because, as you perceived, every smidgeon has to be cleaned out. That's all we've achieved today . . ."

Elder Ampris shot a sour glance at Lars. "More helpers?"

Killashandra gave a bark of laughter. "Just find me a vacuum capable of sucking up crystal dust and we'd clear this in an hour. Or, supply me with a brand new case!" And she gave the one before her a dismissive slap with her hand. Crystal pinged, Lars and Ampris winced.

"Gets to you, doesn't it? Well, Elder Ampris, that's where we stand. Now, if you'll excuse me, the nitty gritty doesn't get done by talking about it." She picked up her brush but Ampris cleared his throat.

"A dinner and concert have been arranged for your enjoyment this evening," he said.

"I appreciate the courtesy, Elder Ampris, but until I have finished this, I wouldn't feel right about taking any time off for mere entertainment. If you'll send us in some more food -- "

"Guildmember," Lars interrupted, "with all due respect, Elder Ampris is not . . . I mean, it is hardly his responsibility . . . "

"What are you trying to say, Captain?"

Ampris, his eyes glinting with the first glimpse of the humor she had seen from him since that long-ago reception, held up his hand, relieving Lars of the necessity of explanation.

"If the Guildmember is willing to forego pleasure to complete her task, I feel I may serve as messenger for her requirements."

"Apparently everything I require has to be authorized by you anyway. Seems silly to waste time with all those intermediate stages."

Killashandra grinned at Ampris without a sign of remorse. "Would you not have a word with them out there, or Thyrol? Speed things up tremendously.

Oh, and don't forget, I need two hundred of those brackets. And the handlight. Lars, you go with him and get it, will you? It has to be small enough not to hamper sight, and I'd prefer a tight beam."

They left and she returned to work. When Lars came back with several handbeams, his eyes were bubbling with humor.

"Your wishes are his commands, Oh mighty Guild-member, Oh sweeper of the white crystal specks! Orders were issued to all the boys out there,"

and he jerked his thumb at the closed door panel, "that anything you request is to be secured as fast as possible."

"Hmmm. Bring one of those lights to bear on this corner, will you, Lars?" She flicked the brush and disclosed tiny granules that glittered in the light. "See? The fardling things are pernicious! I'll get 'em, every last speck!"

When the sumptuous dinner was wheeled in to them some time later, she grumbled but stopped working.

"Is crystal singing some kind of disease!" Lars asked conversationally.

"You sail. Do you call a halt in the middle of a storm? Do you leave off fis.h.i.+ng in the midst of a school to nap?"

"It's not quite the same thing -- "