"Sometimes that's because it's too important to admit, even to himself."

The intensity of those quiet words rang in Killa's mind.

Lars had so often told her he loved her, but usually in a sort of

off-hand manner, as if he didn't really mean it, or was astonished by

blurting out the declaration.  Mways his hands and eyes had conveyed

more than he actually said aloud.  Even when she was denying him, she

couldn't genuinely deny her love for him, just her dependence on the

affection of any other human being.

The lift door opened and, taking a deep breath, she led the way out to

the Hangar and the double sled waiting and ready.

As there was no other sled in sight, Killa set the course directly

towards the coordinates Lars had given her and, making a little display

of it, dutifully chewed and swallowed the note.  Donalla gave her a

nervous smile.  Killa found the medic's fidgets amusing since the woman

had always seemed so selfconfident.  Well, in an Infirmary, probably,

but now she was in the singer's bailiwick and the Ranges were awesome.

No question of that.

When Donalla relaxed enough to watch the spectacular scenery streaming

by, Killa made something hot to drink and broke out some munchables.

They hadn't had any noon meal and she wanted something in her belly if

she was to let herself get thralled.

There was one problem, Killa mused, now that she focused her mind on the

actual process.  She never remembered a thing from any period in which

she'd been thralled.  It was all a blank from the moment she lifted the

crystal free to the moment thrall lifted.  Of course, Donalla had

carefully explained that one didn't remember the span of a hypnotic

incident either.  Well, and Killa shrugged, finishing the last of her

ration bar, it was worth a try!  Lars needed the boost a success would

give him.

Between sessions with Donalla, Killa had done some surreptitious poking

in general files: from Recruitment to Deliveries, all readily accessible

information.  There certainly had been a drop in the numbers of

applicants to the Guild.  There'd only been six in the last bunch to be

processed: and a mere ninety signing up for Guild membership over the

last decade.  She checked back over four decades when the totals had

been up to the two hundred mark.

More singers were rated "inactive' than active on the Roster.  No deaths

listed in the past twenty years.

Killa's thoughts were grim.  The cost of caring for singers was higher

than the budgets for Research and Development yet profits were

dwindling.  Lars had been all too correct in saying the Guild was in

serious shape.  She really should have brought in - she frowned, for the

name escaped her.  She'd found someone, hadn't she, with the perfect

pitch required.

Could that sort of ability be on the wane in the modern world?  It was a

trick of the ear and the mind.

Gradually as the state of affairs of the Guild became obvious, her

initial repugnance over invading singers' damaged minds to find the

location of their sites began to subside.  At Donalla's suggestion, she

sat in on a hypnotic session with a man whose symbiont was visibly

failing him.  He was gnarled and wrinkled with age, joints thick with

calcium deposits, veins engorged on fleshless limbs and digits.  He

seemed content, though, wrapped in a warm soft blanket and smelling of a

recent bath.

There hadn't been much intelligence in the dull, deeply receding eyes

despite the fact that they at least were following the movement of the

random fractiles developing on the large screen in the corner of his

room.  He was an improvement over some of the living corpses Killa had

seen on her way to his small single room.

"I chose Rimbol because at least he's tracking what's on the screen,'

Donalla said.  "I've had some luck in restimulating one or two of the

least damaged singers.  I've just turned off the music in here but we've

found he does respond to audio as well as visual stimuli.  I think

whatever we do to try to reach their brains is better than just letting

these poor hulks have nothing to see and hear.  Rimbol's more receptive

to hypnotism than some of the others." She held up the prism and turned

Rimbol's head slightly so that the crystal was on a level with his eyes.

She twisted the chain so that the prism caught the light and immediately

Rimbol's eyes were captured.

"Watch the prism, Rimbol, watch the lovely colours, shifting and

changing.  Your eyes are getting heavy, you can't hold them open because

your lids are so very heavy and you're falling asleep, gently falling

asleep .  " Donalla pitched her pleasant contralto into a slow rhythmic

pattern and Rimbol's eyes did flicker and close and a sigh escaped his

lips.

"You will sleep and you will not resist.  You will answer my questions

as best you can.  You will remember where you were when you cut black

crystal.

You will remember what the landscape was like, if there were any

prominent landmarks.  You will also tell me the coordinates because you

do remember them.  And you do remember this particular site because you

cut black crystal there, four fine crystals in the Key of E Major.  You

made enough credits to leave Ballybran for over a year.  Records show

that you went to your home-world on that occasion.

Do you remember that time, Rimbol?  Do remember the landmarks about that

site, Rimbol?"

"Ah, the E Majors?  Best I ever cut.  I "member." The words were slurred

but both medic and singer listened hard.  "I "member. Two peaks, like

cones, and then the flat part " The words became more distinct, the

voice even sounded younger, more vibrant.  "Narrow ravine, winds like an

S, had to tip the sled and damned near lost her but I knew there was

black around.  Fardling steep slope up to the peaks, sharp to climb,

slipped often but crystal's there .

feel it in my knees and hands "The coordinates, Rimbol.  What are the

coordinates?  You saw them when you finally set the sled down.  You know

you did.  So put yourself back then, when you're looking down at your

console.  Now, you can see the figures on the scope, can't you?"

"See "em "What do you see, Rimbol?  Look closely.  The numbers are very

clear, aren't they?"

"Clear.

"What numbers do you see?"

"Ah - -" and another sigh escaped the old man.

"Longitude 152 degrees 22.4, latitude 16 degrees 15.51.  Didn't think

I'd "member that.  I did!" He smiled contentedly and his closed eyelids

trembled.

Killashandra had jotted down the coordinates and then looked at the

figures, still uneasy about obtaining such information.

"He'll never make it there again, Killa," Donalla said softly.

"He doesn't need them.  The Guild which cares for him does."

"Someone else could probably find the claim without scouring it out of

his mind," she said, resisting the intrusion for Rimbol's sake.  His

name sounded familiar but he had altered far too much for her to recall

what he had looked like as a young and vigorous man.

"There isn't time for random chance." Then Donalla turned back to her

patient.  "Thanks, Rimbol.  You have been marvellously helpful."

"Have?" Killashandra was astounded to see a smile return to tremble on

the wasted lips, a smile which remained even after Donalla ended the

hypnotic session.  She said nothing when she noted that Killashandra saw

that smile.  She turned up the music, a lilting merry tune, and, as the

two women left, Killashandra turned back and saw a distorted finger lift

in time to the rhythm.

When they had finished their snack, Killashandra checked their flight

path and estimated that they were nearly there.  They overflew the black

and yellow chevrons ten minutes later and she circled, mentally chanting

Lars' choosing rhyme - eeny meeny - as she looked for the landmarks he'd

told her marked the exact location of the black crystal.

She had turned a hundred and sixty degrees before she recognized the

configuration of ravines: three, one rising behind the other, in frozen

waves of stone.

At the base of the third, she should find signs of workings.  She did:

recent workings because sunlit sparkles caught her eye.

"Here we are," she carolled out to Donalla.

"Behold!" and she gestured expansively out of the front window.

"An actual crystal site!" Donalla's lips parted and then a slight frown

marred her high forehead.

"No, it's not much to look at," Killa said, lightly teasing.  "A place

known only to few and treasured by many." She locked down the controls,

noting as she did so, as she always did whether she had realized it

before or not, the coordinates on the screen before she shut the engines

off.  She had to admit that such an automatic scan was as much a part of

a landing routine as turning off the engine: so automatic she wouldn't

remember she'd done it three seconds after she had.  There'd be hundreds

of such flashes for Donalla to probe.

She reached for her cutter and gave the lined carrier for cut crystal to

Donalla to carry and opened the sled door.  Through the soles of her

heavy workboots, she could feel the ripple of the nearby black.

She swallowed hard.  The call of black was strong.

Maybe Lars had been right: she wasn't ready for black yet.  But they

hadn't much choice, had they?

She led the way to the face, visible because of the regular steps where

crystal had been recently cut.

Nothing looked familiar.  She knew from checking files that he had cut

alone for nearly a decade: a decade she hadn't known had passed while

they were estranged.  But, and she shook her head in surprise, the claim

bore their chevron markings.  Lars was a bundle of contradictions,

wasn't he?  He was too sentimental to be a good Guild Master, she

thought, and, thinking of recent examples of his ruthlessness, she

reversed her opinion.

As she narrowed the distance, she explained once more to Donalla exactly

how a singer proceeded on site: finding a clear side of crystal,

sounding a tuning note, setting the cutter, and then excising the

crystal.

"The dangerous part is when I hold the crystal up.

If sun hits it, I'll go up into thrall." Wryly she glanced up to check

the position of the sun, trying to ignore the hard, cold knot developing

in her stomach.

"Well," she said, exhaling a deep breath, "here goes!" She motioned for

Donalla to step back a bit for the woman was standing too close to the

business edge of the cutter.

Killashandra eyed the crystal face.  Yes, these were Lars' cuttings.

She'd know them anywhere.  Recent storms hadn't damaged his distinctive

style.  She brushed some loose splinters away and felt the crystal

resonance just a note away.  She pressed her hand flat against the

surface and, setting her diaphragm, sang a clear mid-C.  The crystal

vibrated almost excitedly to the sound.  She set the culler.

She put the blade perpendicular to the face and then rammed it in,

disengaged the blade, sliced from the top to her lower cut, then quickly

shifted position to make the second downward cut, freeing the shaft. She

turned off the cutter, letting it slip down the harness that held it to

her shoulder.

"Now, Donalla," she said and lifted the black crystal high, high enough

to catch the sun and felt the beginnings of thrall paralyse her.

She could no more have evaded that than Rimbol had been able to evade

Donalla.

Hard grit dug into her face, irregular hard objects poked her the length

of her body, her ears rang with an unpleasant dissonance that would soon

split her skull.  Abruptly the unendurable noise quit.

"Killa!  Killa!  Are you all right?" A hand on her shoulder shook her,

tentatively at first, then more urgently.  But the voice was female.

She'd never cut with a woman!  She propped herself up, one hand

automatically feeling for the cutter Her cutter?  Where was it?  She

couldn't have lost her cutter?  Dazed, she looked about her, patting the

ground.  Her eyes were dry in their sockets and ached.

"Killa?" Boots scrabbled on the litter and someone's face peered

anxiously at her.  But the someone held her precious cutter in one hand

and a black crystal shaft in the other.

"I didn't drop it.  .  ." Killa was weak with relief.

"I was about to shatter it if the cutter noise hadn't worked," the woman

said.

Killa peered at her anxious face.  It was familiar She forced a tired

mind to put name to face.  Ah!

"Donalla!"

"Who did you expect?" Relief made Donalla's voice sharp.

Killa eased herself to a sitting position.  She couldn't trust her legs

yet.  Her right shoulder ached and her arm was riddled with sharp

needles of renewed circulation.  She massaged her shoulder, gradually

becoming aware that darkness was rapidly shadowing the narrow ravine.

"So?" she asked Donalla curtly as memory flooded back.  She'd cut black

to go into thrall, which she had obviously done, and the thrall had

lasted much longer than planned.

The look on the medic's face answered her question.  "You were more

impenetrable than when I tried back at the Infirmary," she said, with a

weary sigh.  "You just stood there, holding this wretched thing," and

she gave the black shaft a careless waggle.

Killa lunged to save it.  Donalla drew it sharply back into her chest.

"I'm all right now, Donalla.  It can't thrall me again.  Just don't

damage the thing."

"After what it did to you?  I thought I'd never get it out of your

hand." Donalla regarded her burden warily.

"Then put it in the carrier." Killa wrenched her upper body about,

looking for the carrier and jabbed her finger at it.  "Just don't drop

it," she added as Donalla obeyed.  Her voice was strident with anxiety.

She cleared her throat and went on, controlling her voice, "For some

reason, fresh crystal cracks faster than at any other time.  Ah!" She

sighed her relief as the medic stowed and covered the shaft.

Killa got to her feet then, brushing off clinging bits and pieces of

dirt and crystal.  She was tired but, glancing at the sun, she saw there

was enough light left to make a couple more cuts to add to this bigger

C.

"What are you doing?" Donalla asked, her voice sharp with concern.

"I'm going to cut." She had to use force to get Donalla to release the

cutter.

"But I couldn't break through the thrall."

"Shouldn't keep me from cutting.  Especially as it's black." Killa went

down a fifth, sang loud and clear, heard the answering note and set her

cutter.  Donalla stepped in front of her "Out of my way," Killa said,

appalled that she had been about to swing the cutter into position, a

position that would have sliced right through Donalla's thighs.

"I can't let you."

"Ah, leave off, Donalla!" Killa tried to push her away.  "There's no

sun.  It's the sun that starts thrall.

For the love of anything you hold sacred, let me use the light that's

left."

"You're sure?  It took me hours - -"

"Well, it won't happen at this time of day Killa blew out with

exasperation.  The woman was worse than any novice she'd ever

shepherded.  "Sun's nearly done.

Now, move out of my way!" Hesitantly and watching Killa very warily

indeed, Donalla stepped aside.  Killa sang again and tuned the cutter,

neatly slicing beyond her first cut.  She excised that one, managed two

more quick ones in the same level: smallish and stocky but black!  She

had the cutter poised for a third when the face turned sour.  There was

an intrusion or a flaw.  Cursing under her breath, she stepped back and

signalled Donalla to bring the carrier over.  She finished packing

crystal just as the last of the sunlight faded from the ridges above

them.

The two women stumbled back to the sled, the carrier between them.

Only when she had seen the carrier secured behind straps and the cutter

properly racked did Killashandra allow fatigue to creep up on her "How

long did you say I was thralled?" she asked, slumping into the pilot's

chair "I forgot to check the time right away, Donalla admitted, "but

from the time I did till I threw you down, it took three and a half

hours!" Killa chuckled weakly.  "Don't doubt it." She rubbed at shoulder

muscles still twingeing from a long inactivity.  "And I wouldn't

answer?"

"You kept staring at the crystal.  I tried every single manoeuvre Lars

showed me and you might as well have been crystal yourself for all the

blind good it did me." She had been scared, Killashandra decided, that's

what was making her angry now.

"Don't reproach yourself, Donalla.  I got out and the crystal's OK.

I'd've been out of thrall once the sun went down.  Or didn't Lars

remember to mention that?" He hadn't to judge by the expression on

Donalla's face.  "Fix me something to drink, will you?

I'm too tired to move and my throat's so dry - Donalla banged the cup on

the counter as she hauled the water out of the cooler, her movements

telling more plainly than any words the state of her feelings.

With food in her stomach, Killashandra took a hand beam and went out to

examine the face.  If she could cut past the damaged crystal to clear

stuff, she ought to.  She was damned lucky to find black ù Then she

laughed, recalling that luck hadn't entered into the discovery.

Knowing that she would have black to cut in this site took some of the

elation out of the work.  It was the mystery, the challenge of having to

find the elusive material.  Donalla could acquire first-hand Range

experience to augment her clinical knowledge of crystal singers.

Killa hummed softly, listening for an answering resonance and heard

none.  Cursing under her breath, she went back to the sled.

She'd have to wait till morning to see how deep the flaw was. Worse than

not finding black was finding it uncuttable.

She woke in the night, aware of the warm body beside her and instantly

recognizing it as Donalla's, not Lars'.  That was another matter they

had neglected to explain to Donalla.  As the woman was apparently

unremittingly heterosexual, Killa decided she'd have to manage.  Morning

song could be rather more of a shock than Donalla could handle.  Moving

carefully, Killa rose.  She found an extra thermal in the cupboard and

let herself out of the sled.  This wouldn't be the first time she'd

slept on the ground.

Rolling herself up under the prow of the sled where she'd be protected

from any heavy dew, she wriggled until she got comfortable and dropped

off to sleep again.

Dawn and crystal woke, singing her awake.  She took deep breaths to

reduce the effect on her until she heard Donalla crying out.

Grinning, but as uncomfortable herself as Donalla probably was, Killa

endured.  Fortunately, this ravine was higher up in the Range than many

and the sun song didn't last very long.  She waited an appropriate

length of time before returning to the cabin.

"What was that?  Where did you go?" Donalla said, her tone almost

accusatory.

"That's crystal waking up to sunlight.  Fabulous experience, isn't it?"

Killa grinned unrepentantly, folding her thermal to stow it away again.

"I felt discretion was the better part of retaining our growing

friendship."

"Oh!" and Donalla rounded her mouth for the syllable, flushing beet-red

and looking anywhere but at Killashandra.  "No one told me about this."

"I know," Killashandra said sympathetically.

"It's another case of us knowing it so well we think everyone else knows

it.

Donalla took another deep breath and managed a weak smile.  "I gather -

- - I mean - - - Well, is that why certain partnerships .  .  .

?  Oh, I'm not sure what I mean." Killa laughed, flicking the switch on

the hot-water heater, and making other preparations to cook breakfast.

"It has a tendency to make minor quarrels disappear in the morning." By

the time she'd eaten, Donalla had turned clinical in her examination of

the sensual effect of sun-warmed crystal on human libido.  Killa

answered honestly and fully, amused at Donalla's professional curiosity.

"What's astonishing is that more singers don't sing duet," she finally

announced, turning enquiringly to Killa.

She shrugged.  "I suppose it's like anything else.

Palls after a few score years."

"You and Lars were partners for.

.  ." Donalla bit off the rest of her sentence.

Killa regarded her for a long moment.  Those of the Guild who did not

lose "time' in the Ranges were taught not to make comparisons that could

upset singers.

"A long time," Killa said.  "A very long time.  She paused.  "It doesn't

seem like a long time.  How old am I, Donalla?"

"You certainly don't look your age, Killashandra," she said,

temporizing, "and I won't put a figure to it." Killa grunted and heaved

a big sigh.  "You're right, you know, and I don't really want a figure."

"You don't look older than four, maybe five decades." Donalla offered

that as compensation.

"Thanks." Then Killa rose, having finished her meal.  "I've got black I

might be able to cut out of that face.  I've got to try." She waggled a

finger at Donalla.

"Only today, you make bloody sure you take any cuts right out of my hand

the moment I've pulled it free.

You wrench it from me, if necessary, and carefully, mind you, stow it in

the carton." Donalla stood ready all day to follow those orders but they

were never needed.  The black had fractured right down into the base of

the site.  Killa swore because she had cut carefully the day before. She

hadn't heard the fracture note as she finished cutting the third shaft.

Usually you did.  .  .  a crack that was audible and sensed even through

the thick soles of her boots.

"Damn, damn and double damn," she said, admitting defeat in

mid-afternoon.  She'd even tried to find an outcropping somewhere else

in the rock but hadn't had so much as a murmur from crystal.

"What?" Donalla asked, rousing from a state of somnolence.  She'd been

patiently watching Killa's explorations from a perch on the height.

"II's gone.  No point in staying here."

"We're going back?" Donalla's face livened out of dutiful resignation.

"We shouldn't.  We should look around."

"Lars only gave you these coordinates."

"Yes but somewhere around here," and Killa waved her hand in a

comprehensive sweep that took in the entire ravine, "there'll be more

black crystal."

"How long will it take you to find it?"

"Ah," and Killa waggled her forefinger, "that's the rub.  I don't know

where."

"Well, then, let's go back to the cube and get coordinates to another

known black crystal site," Donalla said, pushing herself off her perch

and brushing dust from her trousers.

"It'll take us three hours to get back," Killa heard herself protesting.

"Why, I could be-' "Circling the area unprofitably for hours, days, more

likely," Donalla said.  "Let's do it the easy way, with another set of

coordinates.  Huh?" Killa considered this, sweeping aside all the

arguments she was ranging against the common sense Donalla was speaking.

She owed it to Lars.  He'd been right.  She had some black to return

with.  She shouldn't waste time.  She should cut where they knew there

was more.

"You're right.  Absolutely right.  We go back.  We do it Lars' way."

Chapter Ten

Lars was pleased with the four she brought back, disappointed by

Donalla's failure, and relieved that they had returned.

He had other coordinates for Killa to use.

"I don't really like this," she told him.  "It still feels like claim

jumping." Lars grinned at her.  "You won't say that when you have to

share the proceeds, sunny."

"There's that, too, of course," she said, making a face at him.

She went out by herself within the hour after getting a severe lecture

from Lars about remembering to stow black the instant she cut it.

"If I find it!"

"You will." She did, but whatever crystal there might have been there

once was now buried under a mass of rubble and boulders too big to be

shifted.  She sang, at the top of her excellent lungs and didn't hear so

much as a squeak from the buried crystal.

So she returned to the Guild, arriving just before dark and, while he

was willing to give her another set of coordinates, Lars wasn't willing

for her to start until the next morning.

"Take a long bath, have a good meal, sleep in a good bed," he said with

a wink and a leer.  "Missed you, sunny," he added in a soft voice and

pulled her to him, to kiss her neck.  He pulled a face as he licked his

lips.  "Yugh!  You need the bath."

"Thanks!"

"Look," and he became serious, "I badly need your help, sunny.  Really,

more your presence and a nod or two when necessary.  If you seem to be

going along with my scheme, the others're more apt to."

"Go along with what scheme?" she demanded, wary.  Lars was wearing his

Guild Master's face.

"I've got three other singers who I believe, I hope, are still flexible

enough to go along with me in this."

"In what?"

"Easy, Killa," and he grinned down at her, a twinkle returning to his

eyes, "using coordinates from the inactives."

"Oh," and she began to see both his problem and his scheme.

"I also want to see how they respond to that alternative Donalla's

suggested."

"Which is?" She had slightly eased herself back from his embrace.

He scrubbed his head with his knuckles, a sure sign to her that he was

uncertain and nervous.  "If singers didn't spend so much time trying to

find claims they haven't worked in a while, if they could just go right

back to them, they'd save a lot of time."

"So you want them to permit Donalla to hypnotize them and force memory

of their coordinates?" Killa asked, cutting to the gist.  He nodded.  "I

don't think they'll go for it," she said, shaking her head.

"You took mine and found the black.  You took Rimbol's and got to his

site."

"I know it can be done, and you might get some singers to use inactives'

coordinates but I don't think you'll get them to submit to hypnotic

recall of their own sites.  You know how paranoid we all are about claim

locations."

"Paranoia doesn't have to enter the picture."

"Ha!"

"Look, Donalla's not a cutter and she's demonstrated her integrity as a

medic.  She's certainly not going to violate their trust "First she has

to get it.

"All right but she's not about to go mouthing off coordinates.

Muhiah, but she could implant a posthypnotic command to forget what

she's just heard."

"She could?" Killashandra was surprised.

"She wants to give each singer who'll go for this a keyword.  She may

have to keep track of keywords, knowing how fragile the memory of

singers is," and Lars gave Killa a wry grin, "but that keyword would

allow them to recall their own coordinates without any other further

assistance.

"I mean," and Lars began to pace the room in his enthusiasm for this

scheme, "this is the way it'd work, according to Donalla.  She gives

them a posthypnotic command to remember coordinates whenever they set

down the sled.  That's locked in their memories.  Guild records show

what they cut, if not where they cut.  When they want to return to a

site, they say the password and that makes the information accessible

again.  To them, and them only, so their privacy hasn't been violated."

It sounds feasible for those who accept hypnosis."

"You seem to be one of the few who doesn't," he said, resignation in his

voice.

"I've always marched to my own drumbeat, she said in a light tone which

masked her own sense of failure in that respect.  She really did want to

help him, and the Guild, but mainly Lars.  "Count on me for support.  .

.  for however much good it does you."

"Your support'll mean more than you imagine, sunny," he said and gave an

emphatic nod of his head.  "Go on and get cleaned up.  I've got a few

more things to clear off my screens." And he gestured to a desk littered

with pencil files.

"I'll meet you in the main dining hall in an hour.  All right?" When she

had bathed and dressed with some care, she made her way to the dining

hall she hadn't patronized in she couldn't remember how long.

Long enough so that its decor wasn't the least bit familiar, nor the

studies and collages and hangings on the wall.

But those were often changed as well as the soft carpeting and the

furnishings.  There weren't that many diners in the big room and most of

the alcoves were dark.  It made her shiver a little.  Was it just that

all working singers happened to be out in the Ranges right now?

That there wasn't a group of novices waiting around to be infected by

the symbiont?  That the large number of support staff had all decided to

eat in their quarters this evening?

She looked around for Lars and then heard his distinctive whistle.

He was just loading a tray with beakers of Yarran beer, to judge by its

colour.

Beside him were Donalla and Presnol and three singers, the same three

she had recognized at the meeting when Lars had opened inactive claims.

Now he nodded towards a banquette table off one side of the huge

low-ceilinged room and she turned to meet them there.  She managed to

drag one singer's name to mind - Barton.  Pushing harder, she remembered

that he'd been in the group she had "graduated' with.

Actually he didn't look much older.  Why should he?  If his symbiont was

doing its job.

"Barton, how nice to see you," she said, smugly pleased that she had

placed him.  She smiled at the other two, a man and a woman, as if she

remembered them, as well.  She gave Lars a quick glance which he

interpreted correctly.

"Tiagana, Jaygrin, do you recall Killashandra?"

"I think we've met either on ships leaving Shankill," Killashandra said,

addressing Jaygrin, "or wandering around the moon waiting for a

shuttle," she added, glancing at Tiagana.  "Ah, Yarran beer.

What would we do without it?" That seemed to bridge the gap.

Everyone reached for a glass from Lars' tray and then helped transfer

platters and covered dishes to the round table.

Presnol appeared at that point and soon the group was sitting down and

passing dishes around so that all were served.

Lars acted the genial and diligent host and sent Presnol back for more

Yarran beer when the first beakers were empty.  Killa saw flashes of

amusement in the other singers' faces, as if they were well aware of how

Lars was trying to lull them.  It had been a long time since she'd been

in a peer group, or in a dinner party of any kind.  If it hadn't been

for Presnol and Donalla deftly stimulating conversation, this party

might never have come to life.  But it did.

"All right, Lars, you've dined us and beered us, so what's this really

about?" Barton asked, settling back in the chair as he pushed his empty

dinner plate away from him.

"All four of you have been profiting from cutting on inactive singers'

claims," Lars began, "and that's exactly what I hoped would happen.  But

I'd like you four to take this a step further." He went on, using almost

the same explanation he had given Killa an hour before.

Had he been rehearsing it on her, she wondered?  But, since she had

heard it, she could pay more attention to the way the other three were

responding to his scheme.

Tiagana didn't bother to disguise her reluctance.

She leaned away from Lars, towards Barton who was sitting beside her. He

was not as unreceptive.  Killa could almost see the CRystal dancing in

Jaygrin's eyes and his smile was positively greedy.

"How do we know that Donalla can't unhypnotized herself and consciously

know our claim locations?"

"She can't," Presnol said so flatly contradictory that Jaygrin had to

accept the fact.

"I wouldn't want to.  It would be pointless since I don't sing crystal,

and the cutter is always paid on what he or she brings in.  I couldn't

count on you to remember to give me a bribe, now could I?" Jaygrin

laughed, showing narrow, almost feral teeth.  "So the deal is, Lars

dahl, that we'll get inactive singer sites plus this hypnotic business

to remember where we cut?" Lars nodded.

"And no share out of the cut?" Barton asked.

"On the first cut of an incentive, you pay the twenty-five percent but

only the Guild tithe on any subsequent cuttings." Even Tiagana looked

interested now.

"It works," Killa said, deciding to enter the discussion.  "I've flown

out and cut as long as the claim was good.  Came back in, got another

set, and flew directly to it, ready to cut again.  Of course, one claim

was buried too far to be reached but the coordinates were accurate.

Saves a lot of time and wasted effort."

"You've been doing what Lars described?" Tiagana asked.

"I have," Killa replied, nodding and managing a slightly smug curl to

her smile.  "A snap," and she produced one with her fingers.  "I think

it's a lot easier on a body, too," she added, indolently easing her

buttocks down in her chair.  "Muhlah, when I think of the days I've

spent trying to find a site, trying to remember if this was still

workable.  Sure saves a lot of stress." She debated putting a word or

two about loyalty to the Guild but knew that wouldn't cut much with

singers.  Only credit did.

And Lars' new scheme was indeed the key to larger credit balances and

fewer dry runs in the Ranges.

"No more dry runs," she did add as the three singers were mulling over

what had been said.

Presnol slipped away from the table and returned with more Yarran beer.

Wisely Lars switched to a discussion of the dinner they had just eaten,

criticizing the preparation of one or two dishes and asking if anyone

else had found them wanting.

Singers would talk food till the galaxy grew cold and either Presnol or

Donalla kept the beer circulating until only he and Killa, who had been

more abstemious than her custom, were able to manoeuvre.

"Do you think it'll work?" she asked him, as they made their way to

their quarters.

"We'll know tomorrow.  But that Jaygrin's going to try it," and Lars

chuckled.  "Avaricious bastard!  But then he's never come in with any of

the darker colours On his own." Which, in crystal singer parlance, was

the most insulting thing you could say about another cutter.

Chapter Eleven

As Killa was setting off for the next set of coordinates Donalla had

obtained for her, she saw the other three singers readying their sleds

in the Hangar.  When she came back two days later, she had a full carton

of deep amethyst crystals in fifths and thirds.  They were not, of

course, the black she'd been after.  But she remembered that Clodine had

said the darker shades were in short supply so she'd stayed to cut

rather than return empty-handed.

Before she'd lifted from the site, she'd jotted down the coordinates and

slipped the notation under the sheet of liberated markers, taped to her

console.  In plain sight and yet hidden.  Now if she could only remember

that!  She ought to think of some sort of code, something she'd twig to

the moment she saw it, that it was a code and what it concealed.  She

began to regret that she wasn't a good subject for hypnosis.

She wondered how Tiagana, Barton and Jaygrin were getting on.  She was

pleased she recalled their names so easily.  If she wanted to remember

something, she really could.

She was in rare good spirits when she brought the cartons in to Clodine.

"Haven't I seen you here a lot lately?" the Sorter asked, grinning

because Killa was.

"Sure!  I'm enjoying an excellent streak of luck.  It was bound to

happen," Killashandra said blithely, "given the probabilities.  Even if

these aren't blacks." Clodine held up the heaviest of the fifths,

adjusting her eyesight to scrutinize the crystal.  She put it on the

scales and made minute adjustments, nodding her head.

"Well, you remembered amethyst and there's a good market for them right

now.  Two space stations are being constructed and the big Altairian

waystation is expanding, so darks are needed for their life-support

systems.  Lars dahl'll be really pleased to in."

"I'll tell him myself, hear?" And she winked at Clodine.

"It's nice to see you like this, Killa," Clodine said and gave Killa's

arm a tentative pat.  "And you're not even buzzing."

"No, I'm not.  I feel as if I could cut for ever these days."

"I'd heard you already had!" Clodine said with rare flippancy.

In great good humour, Killashandra laughed and chuckled more heartily

from her gut when she saw the final figure on two days' work.

Many were the times in her past when she'd've killed for such totals.

Yes, Lars' idea of getting coordinates out of inactives was brilliant.

Before she went down to her quarters, she stopped in the Hangar office

to ask for her sled to be ready for the morning.

"Why don't you just stay out, like you usually do, Killa?" Murr wanted

to know.  "You're like an overnight homer, in one day and out the next."

"I find what the Guild needs, I cut, I bring it in.

Much more efficient that way, isn't it?"

"You're using a lot of fuel," Murr cautioned.

"I've the credit to pay for it, Murr.  Humour me." She left him there

but his morose attitude brought her down a bit.  The moment she entered

her quarters, the comunit buzzed.

"Muhlah!  Can't I even have a bath first?"

"Killa?" Lars' image came up on the screen.  "Glad you're in, CS Ree.

Would you join me as soon as possible in my office?" She started to say

something snide about his formality but he stepped to one side and she

saw that he had visitors in his office: visitors who were wearing the

clear plastic suits and breathing masks that meant their errand was

urgent enough for them to risk possible contamination by the Ballybran

symbiont.

"Permit me time to become presentable, Guild Master Lars dahl," she said

in a similar manner and waved the comunit off.

She was quick to shower and change because she was curious.  Very few

people would take the chance these were.  Urgent was almost always

interesting.  As she strode into the office, there was a new person at

Trag's desk who looked up, looked about to challenge her presence,

hesitated and then looked quickly back to the screen.  She palmed the

door and entered lars' office.

"Ah, Crystal Singer Ree, I appreciate your alacrity.

These are Kiera and Rudney Saplinson-Trill.  Kiera, Rudney, this is the

other member of the original Guild survey team." And he gestured for

Killashandra to be seated.

She noticed that there were snacks on the table beside her and blessed

him for such thoughtfulness.

He had even managed drinkers for the suited Saplinson-Trills.  But he

hadn't managed to indicate why they were braving the dangers of

Ballybran.

"I'm not sure if you can recall the planet we visited some years back

"Twenty-four years, five months and two weeks to be precise," Rudney

Saplinson-Trill said with the quick humourless smile of someone to whom

accuracy is more important than courtesy.  The tinny and nasal quality

to his voice reproduced by the helmet speakers increased the impudence

of that unnecessary correction.

"Yes, the one with the opalescence which we investigated for the late

Guild Master.  It was posited at the time that Heptite Guild members,

protected by their symbiont, would be safe from the infection which had

killed the original exploratory team exposed to the opalescence - "Fluid

metal, Guild Master," Rudney said, "is a more accurate term for the

material - FM for short."

"We called it Jewel Junk," Killashandra said, mimicking him.  He didn't

notice but Kiera did.

"Yes, we did, didn't we," Lars said, clearing his throat.  "For lack of

a more accurate designation," he added, nodding towards Rudney.

"You will remember that we actually made two trips there, the second one

after our visit to Sherpa III.  On the second one we fed some trash to

several of the Jewel Junk a.k.a.

FM." Killashandra wanted to giggle at Lars but mastered the urge.

"Actually, nine of the now twenty FM manifestations," Rudney said.

"Yes.  As I was saying," and Killa saw Lars' nostrils flare, a sign of

rare impatience in him.  He gave Rudney a quelling glance.  "We also

tried to establish communications with the - - - ah FM opalescence - -

-" And more firmly when the scientist seemed about to correct him yet

again, "Or has the opalescence abated?" Lars fixed the scientist with a

cold glare.  He then looked back to Killashandra, rattling his strong

fingers on the table in a complex roll.

What appeared to be a nervous habit in him, plus the use of the words

"opalescence', "Sherpa III' and the "infection' began to stir memories

for Killa.

"We established a form of communication with it," she said.  "Have you

managed to enlarge on that beginning?" Or why else were they risking

their lives visiting Ballybran?

"We are pure research scientists, Rudney said stiffly.  "We are

attempting to establish the parameters of an extremely complex life form

"Then you agree that the Junk is sentient?" Rudney made a gesture,

discounting her assumtion.  "We are only beginning to analyse its

substance "Wasn't it impervious to diagnostic instrumentation?" Killa

asked Lars.

"Ours is considerably more sensitive, Rudney continued inexorably, "and

therefore we have made progress where the usual sort of instrumentation

was inadequate to the purpose."

"So," Killa said, crossing her arms over her chest and focusing her

entire attention on him.  She had found this to disconcert the unwary.

"What is it?"

"We have not yet finished our initial survey Rudney admitted.

"After twenty-four years, five months and two weeks?"

"With such an unusual material, one does not rush to conclusions,'

Rudney informed her.

"Did it ever digest the Ballybran crystal we gave it?" Killa was very

pleased with herself for that recollection.

"Ah, no," Rudney replied, and cleared his throat causing an awful

rasping sound to be broadcast.  The non-absorption seemed to worry him.

"In fact," Kiera said, plunging in, "all nine FM units prominently

display the crystal shards in the centre of the reservoir.  That's what

we call the central node.  Though node is not exactly accurate either."

"Would blob do?" Killa found scholarly precision tedious.

"Fluid metal is the proper description of its composition and, even, of

its function," Klera said, her round face solemn.

"But have you established any level of communication with my Jewel

Junk?"

"Yyyeesss, and nn-no," Kiera said, momentarily flustered.  "Our

xenolinguist had hundreds of hours of recording but " And she sagged

with a weary sigh.

"No mutual lexicon," Killa said, adding her own sigh.

"The individual FMs, however, Kiera said, brightening, "seem to be

communicating on some level.  Though whether or not it's through use of

the crystal shard, we haven't been able to ascertain." She shot a

worried look at Rudney.

"Just the nine or the other Junks you've discovered?" Killa asked,

wondering if that was the problem.

"We can't be positive that they don't have another means of interacting.

But we have established that the crystals send bursts of

piezo-electrical current," Kiera said.

"Though we have been unable to determine the exact reason for the

activity," Rudney said, smoothly displacing his partner in explanations.

"All the twenty FM deposits show irrefutable evidence of a

therma-electric effect, generating a voltage flow which, we have

posited, is due to the extremes of temperature through which the planet

goes.  There is a recognizable tide, as it were, in the fluctuations of

the therma-electric effect that can be timed to the onset of deviations

in the planet's rotation around its primary.

"Naturally, we established a control group of three," he went on in an

inexorable manner, settling himself in his chair for a long lecture.

"Caves Three, Nine and Fifteen remain as we found them on our arrival,

complete with their central nub of crystal.

We've divided the others arbitrarily according to size into three

groups, giving each a special diet: organic wastes which seem to have

little effect on growth; inorganic wastes which demonstrably increase

the size exponentially to the amount offered; and a mixture, half and

half, to the third group which seems to thrive the best.

"We've done hours of recordings," Kiera managed to slip in while Rudney

took a deep breath, "which I do maintain are not merely therma-electric

statics.

Fizal is certain that the various rhythms are conversations of some

sort."

"That's not as immediate or as interesting as the history we have

postulated about the primary 478-S2937 and the planet's relationship to

it," Rudney went on.  "Star 478-S has been through many stages and our

investigations point to the probability that the planet, Opal, was

formed from ejecta of the various stages of the star's development."

"Now, Rudney," said Kiera firmly, "you know that Sarianus's theory is

equally viable." She turned to Lars.  "Our astrophysicist is of the

opinion that the star was a huge new star, formed near the remnants of

others."

"That has yet to be proved, Klera, because that theory does not explain

why the planet resolved itself into a mass of liquid metal surrounded by

a mass of non-liquid metal."

"The flares, y,) Klera said and the pair ignored the others in the room

to continue what was obviously a long-standing argument.  "The solar

flares affect the planet.  We've noted the exceptional activity of the

"static" messages shortly before and after solar flares - - "Kiera, you

cannot seriously believe that FM is controlling the flares?"

"I do, Rudney, and there is much evidence to support this." She looked

at Killa as if requesting her acquiescence.  "I believe that the FM has

developed intelligence - a bizarre form, to be sure," and she pointedly

ignored Rudney's crackling snort.  "Its vision and sensory systems would

be electric and magnetic fields, ions and electrons.  Its pain would be

changes in the strengths of those fields and their threat to its

existence when the solar flares are especially violent.  Until recently

- well, recently in solar terms, it has been the sun which has

manipulated the planet's environment and therefore it tries to control

the sun by emanations of its own thermoelectric fields: making sunspots

come and go as needed by influencing minutely the field strengths of its

sun.  Our geologist has noted that the planet has had more than its

share of magnetic pole changes, many earthquakes and some major

readjustments of the polarities.  You might say it's attempting to avoid

"pain".  But it follows that the FM is intelligent because it is

attempting to adjust its environment.

Only intelligence seeks to do this.  I also think," and she shot a

repressive glance at Rudney who kept opening his mouth to interrupt, "it

is capable of reproducing itself in an asexual fission in order to

increase its ability to control the sun.  We have monitored a steady

growth in all FM units - - "How many levels do they go now?"

Killashandra asked.  She suddenly remembered that part of their

investigation.

"FMs with crystal nubs receiving the mixed diet have descended nineteen

levels," Kiera said, as pleased with such growth as a doting mother.

"Those without crystal do not make significant progress and ." She

trailed off, glancing nervously at Rudney.

"Food plus crystal means growth?" Killashandra asked.

"And intelligence," Klera said emphatically.  "The FMs with crystal nubs

exhibit more therma-electric activity than those deprived of crystal.

Who knows what progress could be made in measuring FM intelligence if

they were all equal in opportunity?  Or if they had undamaged crystal !"

That sentence came out in a rush and the purpose of their visit was now

clear to Killashandra.

"We've tried," and now Rudney, his tone nearly apologetic, picked up the

conversational ball Kiera had left rolling aimlessly, "to obtain a

modest budget from the Solar Investigative Society to cover the cost of

small pieces of undamaged Ballybran crystal - - -" He trailed off lamely

and raised his hands in appeal.

She glanced at Lars' bland expression, not sure if she was amused or

annoyed with him.  When he was trying to put the Guild on a more solid

commercial basis, how could he entertain what was clearly an appeal for

a donation of crystal for these scientific types on a project that had

nothing to do with the Guild?  It seemed to her that Lars was seriously

contemplating this request or why would he invite her to the conference?

The silence lengthened with Rudney turning redder inside his protective

suit and KIera running her finger up and down the seam of her sleeve.

"I gather that no more deaths have resulted from contact with the

opalescence?" she asked.

"Of course not," Saplinson-Trill said, flicking away that consideration

with his fingers as he resumed his professional manner.

"We follow a strict regiment of decontam and weekly med checks. We are

extremely careful not to touch the FM with anything but the instruments

kept in the cave for that purpose."

"The lapses certainly haven't proved fatal," KIera added candidly.

Rudney smothered an oath as he glared at her.

"What lapses?" Killa asked, delighted inwardly, though she maintained a

bland, enquiring expression.

"Nothing fatal, or even producing physical discomfort," KIera said

quickly, trying to recover her gaffe.

"What sort of lapse?  Memory loss?" Killa remembered that both she and

Lars had spent long moments admiring the brilliant, shifting coruscation

in the caves.  Like a very sophisticated fractile, it had been beautiful

to watch, almost mesmeric.

"What Kiera refers to," and from the rasp to his voice, Rudney clearly

wished she had not, "are periods when the FM displays the most

thermoelectrical activity.  Several of our team members experienced what

- - ah, I suppose, could be termed time lapses .

"The Jewel Junks' shifting patterns had a certain hypnotic rhythm to

them when we were there, didn't they, Guild Master?" Favouring Lars with

a quick glance, she began to perceive another reason why he had wanted

her in on this meeting.

"Yes, they did," he agreed amiably.  "While the Guild does not make a

practice of assisting outside research in crystal applications, it just

happens that there are some useful shapes and colours available from

apprentice cuttings that could be released to you.  They are now

unflawed crystal, having been retuned, but not of the size, colour or

warrantable stability of pitch to be offered for commercial sale." Utter

relief, uncoloured by his usual affectations, flooded Rudney's face.

Kiera, after giving a squeak of delighted surprise, covered her mouth as

if afraid she might say something that would compromise this offer.

"However, the Guild requires that a singer install the crystal," Lars

said, "and right now, the Guild needs all experienced singers in the

Range."

"But, Guild Master, we've the services of a B&B ship," Rudney surprised

both singers by saying.

"That's the only way we, as leaders of the FM Project, could justify our

absence."

"A brain and brawn ship with a Singularity Drive?" Lars asked, expecting

a negative response.

"Yes, indeed, Guild Master," Rudney said.

"Archaeological and Exploratory are exceedingly interested in the FM

Project and put a ship at our disposal for this important mission.

The BB1066."

"How very convenient," Killa said, twitching an eyebrow at Lars.  "I'd

be tempted to take the assignment if only to see Brendan and Boira

again."

"You are, CS Ree, one of my most experienced singers," Lars began

repressively and Killa wondered why he was glaring at her. Surely he was

merely priming the pump to haggle a good fee for her services.  As he

had the right to do.  The Guild had a reputation to maintain -

especially right now.

"I am due some relief time away from Ballybran," she said.

To her surprise, Lars frowned.  "This really isn't the time for you to

be away from the Ranges, CS Ree." He spoke so firmly that she was

uncertain how to proceed now in this interview.  She was also peeved at

him for she really could use some time off-planet.

And who else had previous experience with the Jewel Junk?  As Guild

Master, he really couldn't leave Ballybran but she could.

Muhlah!

"In that case, I shall plan to return to my duties tomorrow," she said

stiffly and, bowing courteously to the scientists, marched out of the

office.

"Well?" she asked Lars as he entered their quarters much later that

evening.

"Well, what?" he said, scrubbing at his hair with irritation and

fatigue.

"Did you give them crystal?"

"You heard me.  FM, indeed," he muttered. She had ordered Yarran beer

and some light snacks which she served him. "Thanks!" And he sighed with

gratitude as he tipped the recliner back.

"So, how much did you get?"

"Hummm?" he mumbled over a long pull of the beer.

"How much for a singer to install the crystals and whom have you chosen?

Because I insist on going."

"Sunny, I need you here-' he began.

"You can do without me for the eight to ten days it'll take by way of

the B&B.  And frankly, I could use the break."

"Not when you're cutting crystal every time you go out."

"Aren't Tiagana, Barton and Jaygrin?"

"Of course, but-' "And anyone else you can talk into this direct-line

approach to cutting, I'm sure," she said.  "I thought that was why you

had me sit in."

"I had you sit in to see how much you could remember," he said.  He gave

her a quick grin.  "You did better than I expected."

"I did, did I? Well, thank you, Guild Master."

"Donalla says a lot of memory is association.  The more "And thank you

not for discussing me with Donalla!" Killa wasn't certain why that made

her so mad but it did. "I'm not inactive yet, by a long twig, Lars dahl.

And I don't need hypnosis to remember.  .

"You proved that conclusively today," he said in the mild tone he used

when he wished to defuse her anger.

"Now stop manipulating me, will you?"

"I'm not, sunny," and there was a genuine note of surprise in his voice.

In a little movement, he slipped from the recliner to her chair and

embraced her.  She kept herself rigid, refusing to relax and let him

think he had cajoled her into a better humour.  "I also had to get

someone else in the office or I'd've kicked Rudney out.  Wasn't he the

pompous ass!" Killa did relax, glowering and still suspicious.

"Asshole, you mean.  Though she wasn't as bad.

Why would she put up with him?"

"Why do you put up with me?" And Lars flashed a smile at her.

"Then why did you give them the crystal?"

"Ah yes," and Lars nudged his hip against her to make her give him some

room, sliding his arm about her, "well, I received an urgent burst

requesting assistance from Archaeological and Exploratory.

Seems our Jewel Junk is exceedingly important.

"Then why do they entrust it to a dork like Saplinson-Trill?"

"Because, despite his manner, he's tops in his field..

"Which is?"

"Planetary mechanics.  His is not the first group to try to solve the

mystery of our opalescent Junk, but he's had far more demonstrable

success than any other.  And Ballybran crystal is very important to the

success of the next phase of their investigations.  Or so hE seems to

think."

"Why didn't they pay for the crystal?"

"Too many slices out of their budget already."

"Then who's paying for a singer to install "em?" Lars cleared his

throat.  "The Guild was asked to absorb the cost " She hauled herself

about to face him, scowling.  He pinched her lips shut.  "Oh, don't

worry.  The Guild got concessions I've been trying to wangle for the

last three years."

"Such as?"

"Permission to publicize the employment opportunities of the Guild-'

"What?" That was an exceptional concession.

Lars grinned smugly at that coup.  "And the Guild is being allowed to

actively recruit specialists on nineteen human planets."

"That must be a first!"

"In living memory."

"So, they've finally realized how important Ballybran crystal is."

"I'd say that's a fair comment.

He stretched languorously beside her, arching his back, before he cocked

his free arm to cushion his head.  "A good day all totalled."

"Who's the new dork at the desk?" she asked after a moment.

"Oh," and the frown returned.  "Him.  Well, he's a spare pair of hands

and he'll be more useful when he becomes accustomed to the filing

codes."

"I'd hazard the guess," she said after a long pause, "that you also

can't afford to annoy the Council and A&E by sending an incompetent

singer to set those crystals."

"I'm not letting you go, sunny," he said sternly.

"Who else can you send?" she wanted to know.  "I'm the only one

qualified and you can't afford to have the installation messed up, can

you?" Lars gave her a long searching look and then sighed.  "You're

right there.  Much is at stake." Just as he gathered her closer, she

caught a fleeting expression on his face that might have been

satisfaction.  She didn't have time, then, to sift the matter through

because he distracted her thoroughly Being aboard the Brendan-Boira 1066

was a mixed pleasure since Killashandra had to share the ship's good

company with Rudney and Kiera.  Fortunately, the two scientists had

brought reports with them to peruse and analyse and they spent more time

in their cabin or using Brendan's powerful and complex computer banks.

"They did the same thing on the way out," Boira told Killa.

"The tedium was palpable, Brendan added in the exact affected tone

Rudney used.

Killa and Boira smothered laughs.  Killa had taken to Boira the moment

she'd seen the 1066 Brawn.  Not that Boira could be described as brawny:

she was only medium height and her figure was compact.  She had a very

attractive countenance, smooth skinned and of the symmetry provided by

reconstruction; dark eyes and dark hair which was kept at shoulder

length.  She moved with an odd grace that Killa suspected was also due

to the prosthesis required after the accident that had left Brendan

unpartnered during the singers' first expedition to Opal.  Best of all,

Boira had the same quick wit and ready humour that had made Brendan such

a good travel companion.

"Do be careful, Bren," Boira murmured.  "You'll set me off again.

Bren had me in kinks.  It got to be embarrassing because every time they

ventured out of their cabin, they'd say something that Bren had

lampooned and I'd dissolve - in a fit of coughing, of course. Wouldn't

do to laugh in their faces!"

"Then it isn't just me," Killa said, grinning broadly.

"Oh, no," Boira assured her.  "It's them!  The only time they acted

human at all was during decomposition."

"Then they were ve'y human," Bren said in a caustic tone.  "Had to

circulate and clean the air nine times."

"D'you still have the radiant sleeve on board?"

"Indeed, we do," Boira said, "and back in your cabin."

"What'll you do about them, then?" Killa asked, jerking her finger in

the direction of the Saplinson Trills.

"Oh, them!  This time we may let them stew in their own juices, as it

were," Brendan said.  "I can close off the vents to their cabin so we're

spared the stench.  At least they cleaned themselves up afterwards."

"So, did you see much of the FMs?" And Killa drawled the term

sarcastically.

Boira gave a snort.  "After a very lengthy briefing and all sorts of

dire warnings about keeping my mitts to myself and going through a

rather ridiculously involved decontam.  It was worth the effort," she

said.

"The brilliance, the design - - I really think they ought to pay

attention to the complex patterns What did you call them - - Jewel Junk?

I suggested," and she grimaced at her recollection, "that the patterns

the Junk displays could be another attempt at communication."

"And.

"I got told in long chapters how such a theory was ludicrous and had no

possible scientific basis." She shrugged.  "I am entitled to an

opinion." Killa mulled that over.  "Pattern is as good a method of

communication as any other.  Aren't words patterns?"

"Hmmm.  Hadn't thought of it in quite that way, but they are, you know,'

Bren said.

"Full marks to you, Killa."

"I gather they didn't test your theory, Boira?"

"Fardles, no!  What does a ship's Brawn know about esoteric lifeforms?"

"Fifteen minutes until the first Singularity Jump," Brendan announced

and Killa immediately adjourned to her radiant fluid tank.

Apart from a mild headache, Boira was not adversely affected by

decomposition.

"Repetition dulls the effect," she told Killashandra, "but it'll never

be my favourite way to spend five of the longest minutes ever invented

by.the mind of man." In the fluid tank, Killa had only the mildest of

decomposition willies.  When she returned to the main cabin where Boira

and Brendan were running a system's check, she jerked her head in the

scientists' direction.

"Oh, them?" Boira grinned.  "This time they took the precautions we

always recommend.  Never have understood why the cerebral types think I

don't know as much about my profession as they know about theirs.

Hungry?" This time her grin was sly.

"Brendan, did you have to tell Boira about that?" Killa asked, halfway

between irritation and amusement.

"She insisted I explain why I spent so much credit on food stores."

"Why?  Did she think you'd wined and dined pretty girls all in a row

while she was incapacitated?  And thank you, Boira, I am hungry, but not

starved and certainly nowhere near another Passover gorge." Boira liked

food as much as Killa did, and they compared notes until the next Jump.

Both women were spared the company of the Saplinson-Trills, though Boira

periodically enquired solicitously after their health and well-being.

The two did emerge when the last Jump brought them into the Opal system.

Rudney asked Brendan to open a channel to their laboratory so that he

and Kiera could get caught up on any new developments.  There were

enough to send Killa and Boira into the galley to get away from the

scientific jargon.

"You'd think, from all that gibberish, that they were activating a

sorcerous spell or something," Boira said "Equations are a form of

spell, aren't they?" Killashandra asked.

"Hmmmm, perhaps, if you get the right answer.

They batted the notion about until Brendan quietly informed them that

they'd be landing in fifteen minutes.

Rudney and Klera were excited about something, the upshot of which was

they wanted Killa to install the crystals as soon as possible.

Rudney sputtered, close to being inarticulate in his instructions.

Fortunately he had a diagram of where he wanted crystal installed,

though to judge by the strike-outs, the list of priorities had altered

several times.  He wanted the biggest, or strongest, of the crystal

pieces to go in Cave Fifteen which Killa shortly learned was the one

which she and Lars had named Big Hungry Junk.

"It already has crystal," she began.

"It must have the best of the crystals," Rudney insisted, stressing the

"b' and "5' sounds so that some oral moisture spattered Killa in the

face.

"I really don't believe that FM Fifteen will surrender the one it has

when the larger unit is installed," Klera said, her face screwed up with

concern.  "I really do feel that we have no way of adequately explaining

that we need the old shard for one of the smaller FMs."