Killashandra (30 page)

That was a tedious enough process but it was her own safety she was ensuring, hers and Lars’s. With Fernock and Lars handing her the appropriate tools, she released each bracket in turn and reseated the five squat crystal shafts remaining. Then she struck each in turn for tone. They were all
Gs
, of course, in a crystal drive, and to her intense relief, each emitted a pure unblemished tone. She glanced up at Lars, to see him nod at the true
G
she had just sung. He had not been the only one fascinated by the process. There had been a constantly changing if discreet audience on the catwalk above the drive floor. As well. This would only enhance the image of the crystal singer. And it might just safeguard her against any more nonsense from the Elders.

“There now, Mr. Fernock,” she said at last, arching her back against the crick caused by awkward positions. “I think you can safely proceed with reconnections. I don’t think there’s any danger if the load is properly
apportioned. A five-shaft drive should generate enough power to get us to the Mainland.” She held up the hand that had been profusely bleeding an hour before. “See? All better.”

“Guildmember, do you know how long it would have taken me and my men to make such repairs?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess, Mr. Fernock, but do get on with the job.” She smiled at the disconcerted officer and then, with Lars a step behind her, retraced her steps to the upper deck.

“Citizen, you’re too much for this island boy.”

“Huh! I was showing off … again,” and, leaning backward on one hand, kissed him lustily. Just in time to avoid the exchange’s being witnessed by Captain Festinel, who was hurrying to check on repairs. “You were a very deft assistant, Captain Dahl. I must ask for your help with the organ repair.” She sedately continued her ascent.

“Surely, just perfect pitch—” Lars began as they returned to the wardroom. “—Perfect and absolute—”

“—As you say, isn’t the only requirement for your profession?”

“The major one. Ballybran is a Code Four planet—”

“What does that mean? I’m an island lad from a iggerant planet,” and Lars’ voice was rich with contempt.

“Dangerous. Singing crystal is rated a ‘highly dangerous’ profession, limited to Type IV through VIII bipedal humanoids …”

“Are there any other kinds?”

“Don’t alien life forms come for the Festival? The Reticulans are avid musicologists though I could never come to terms with their croons as music.”

“Are they the ones that look like an assembly of twigs on a barrel?” The wardroom was empty and Lars swung her into his arms, kissing her passionately, stroking her
body, murmuring endearments. But knowing that they could be interrupted at any time inhibited Killashandra’s response, even as she yearned for more. At a scraping sound, they broke apart, Killashandra sliding breathlessly into the nearest chair.

“What a delightful description of Reticulans! The barrel is mostly windbag but I’ve never been close enough to discover which of their pseudopods are the pipes.”

Lars stopped pacing, for the noise in the companionway had ceased, and he came back to fondle her.

“A candidate for Guild membership has to pass Physical Fitness Test SG-1, Psychological Profile SG-1—which you’d never pass if you continue to do
that
, Lars—and Education Level 3.”

“I’m not applying to the Guild, only applying a member …”

This time the footsteps stopped and the door was slid back. Mr. Fernock entered, smiling broadly when he saw the occupants.

“We’ll be underway in ten minutes, Guildmember, thanks to your invaluable assistance. And we’ll be able to make a reasonable enough speed on five shafts to reach our destination on time.”

“How marvelous,” Killashandra said in a languid drawl. Marvelous was not really the way she felt, considering the inner turmoil Lars’s caresses had stimulated. She couldn’t get to the City and the Conservatory fast enough.

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

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

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

“A ‘natural’ port?” She smiled.

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

“Naturally.”

“Captain Festinel awaits your arrival on the bridge.”

“How courteous! Where’s Torkes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Security Leader Blaz—”

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

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

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

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

“All waiting for the organ to be repaired?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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