Crystal Line

Chapter 6

Thinking that a legend ought to be compassionate or kindly or at least welcoming, Killashandra accompanied Donalla to her new quarters.Green-garbed medical personnel hovered, checking dials and hooking up remote life-support gear.

Presnol, the Guild's senior medical officer, huddled over the record printout, tsk-tsking, occasionally swearing, and looking extremely displeased with what he saw.

"Why do they leave it so late?"

"Miracles occur with every passing second," Killa said.

"Well, it's been left bloody late," Presnol repeated with a fierce scowl."Why, her throat muscles aren't even strong enough to operate an implant.How does she communicate?"

"One blink is no, two are yes."

Presnol was clearly appalled."What backwater planet spawned her?"

Killa grinned."A mudball named Fuerte.However, there's not a thing wrong with her ears."

Presnol swore again, his skin darkening with embarrassment.Then his expression cleared to a thoughtful look."Hmmm, I certainly hope the symbiont can do its trick.With her background, she'd be invaluable in the labs."

Lowering her voice, Killa asked, "How long before you see any transitional traces?"

"In her weakened state, it won't take long.It better not take long."

"Here, symbiont.Nice symbiont, come here please," Killa said in a discreet whisper, as if calling a recalcitrant animal, then grinned wickedly at Presnol.

"That's about it."Then Presnol went up to the float, his expression blandly friendly."I'm Presnol Outerad, head medical officer.I've read your files, and there's every chance that, in your current state, the symbiont has already entered your system.We will know fairly soon, once it has had a chance to filter through your blood, but I hesitate to subject you to unnecessary phlebotomies.There are several degrees the Transition can take.Of that I must apprise you.I think we all hope-" and his gesture took in Killashandra-"that you enjoy one of the gentler forms."His grin was more friendly than professional."I'd like to stay on in attendance if you don't object?"

Killa was relieved by Presnol's manner and explanations.But then Antona had trained him out of the false heartiness that some medical personnel affected.He was also dealing with someone medically trained, and the usual medic-patient interface would have been insulting.Her respect for Presnol rose.She saw Donalla blink firmly once.

"Very good.In your condition a monitor wouldn't be adequate.However, if you become aware of any increase in discomfort, a rapid eyelid motion will attract my instant attention.You could experience…"And as he began to enumerate the manifestations, Killa saw Lars at the doorway, watching the scene, his expression somber.

Deciding that Donalla couldn't be in better hands, Killa tiptoed away.

"We could wait a little while, couldn't we, before we go off-planet?" she asked Lars.

He regarded her with no expression whatever for a long moment, and then gave her a quick hug."We certainly should wait to see how Donalla makes out.Being a fellow Fuertan and all…"

He ducked before she could pummel him.

The symbiont took very little time installing itself in Donalla's immune-deficient body.Speech returned first, and she indulged in a near hysterical spate of weeping, which was certainly understandable and relieved her of a backlog of stress.Weeping could be quite therapeutic, Presnol remarked when he reported to Lars and Killa, as pleased as if he had had more to do with it than the symbiont.

"Back from the jaws of death, and all that," he said proudly.

Killa exchanged glances with Lars, and they both managed not to laugh.

"What's her alteration?"Lars asked.

Presnol regarded him blankly."How on earth could we know that yet?Why, she's barely-"

"Back from the jaws of death, Lars," Killa said, struggling to keep her expression bland."How can she possibly know how she's changed?"

"Point."Lars's lips twitched."We'll look in on her later," he added, and blanked the screen.

Killa let loose the giggle she had been controlling."The jaws of death, indeed!"

When they came to visit, Donalla was sitting up, propped by pillows, able to move her head and even to raise one limp, wasted hand in greeting.

"I'd hoped to be able to thank you in person, Killashandra Ree," she said.

Although her voice was low, it was a rich, warm contralto.Killa wondered if the woman was actually musically inclined and might have come out of Transition as a singer.

"Why?We Fuertans have to stick together in this alien environment," Killashandra replied genially, appropriating one of the guest chairs while Lars took the other.

Two days had improved Donalla Fiske-Ulass considerably.Her face had lost its gaunt, wasted look; her hazel eyes had gained a sparkle, her skin a healthier color; her lips were pink and less pinched.In fact, from a death's-head she was quickly turning into a rather attractive woman.Perhaps even pretty, and Killa shot a glance at Lars who, as he had often told her, liked to look-only look-at pretty women."Easier on the eyes than ugly ones."But there was nothing in his expression other than attentive concern and interest.

Donalla dropped her eyelids, covering either embarrassment or confusion.

"I didn't even know about the Heptite Guild until Hendra mentioned it, and you."

Killa shrugged."Why should you?"

"It would have saved me a great deal of stress if I had known more about Fuertan notables."

Killa snorted just as Lars said, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, "And here you always gave me the impression you were a renegade, Killa!"

"I suppose in time even renegades become respectable," Killa said diffidently.But she was irritated: she couldn't remember any details of her departure from Fuerte.Except that she had been very glad to go.Perhaps it was just as well that she had forgotten the circumstances.Maybe she hadn't wanted to remember.Being a crystal singer made that easy enough.

"You told me that you almost didn't make it off the planet with Carrick," Lars said.He turned to Donalla."Were you given the usual misinformation that crystal singers are wicked, dangerous, eager to entice the unwary into their lairs, corrupting the innocent?"

Donalla gave a little smile, her eyes glinting slightly."No, but then my informant was a relative, as much of a renegade as I guess you were, Killashandra.She thought you were daring and adventurous.She was thrilled with the chance to meet you, you know."

"Really?"Killashandra was amused.That hadn't come across in Hendra's brief conversation with her, but they had had other priorities at the time."Certainly I managed to escape Fuerte."

"It's changed since you were there," Donalla said loyally.

"It would have had to," Killa said dryly.She changed the subject."Presnol tells me you're over the worst of the Transition."

Donalla managed another of her semi-smiles."I'm unaware of any Transition…"

"That's it exactly," Killa said, rather pleased."The symbiont was kind to you.You won't be bedridden much longer."

"I'm deeply grateful for that, I assure you.I just wish that I'd been allowed here earlier when the extent of my paralysis was appreciated."

"Just like Fuertans to resist the inevitable," Killa said.

"My parents only wanted the best for me," Donalla said.

Lars rose then."Let's not tire her, Killa."

Obediently, Killa followed his lead, although Donalla protested that she enjoyed company-especially now she could talk again.

"I've a lot of catching up to do."

"We have, too," Lars said cryptically, guiding Killashandra out of the room.

"What did you mean by that?" she asked him when they were walking down the corridor.

He said nothing pretending to concentrate on the Met reports as he guided her down the corridor to the lifts to the administrative level.When she realized that their destination was Lanzecki's office, she tried to pull away from him.

"Oh, no!I'm not falling for one of Lanzecki's deals.And you're daft if you let him talk you into anything.We're in good credit, Lars.We can coast for a while.What we need to do is get out in the Ranges again.We've hung about far too long."

"We don't have to worry about Lanzecki," Lars said in a tight voice."He's not involved, Killa.Come in, please."

She couldn't withstand the entreaty in his voice; she entered the anteroom warily, looking about her.

Trag's desk was empty.Killashandra frowned, realizing vaguely that she wouldn't have seen Trag anyway.Splinters of recall suggested that there had been someone else, someone she didn't like.Lars had his hand on her back now and was propelling her into the office.It was empty.She looked about, wondering where Lanzecki had gone.Lars released her and, striding around the desk, sat down in the Guild Master's big chair.

"Killashandra Ree," Lars began in a tone she had never heard him use before: part entreaty, part frustration and part anger."You've simply got to recognize that Lanzecki is dead.You knew that two months ago.You even insisted that no one try to rescue him from Bollam…"She recognized that name and put an unattractive face to it.But Lars wasn't finished."Have you got that lodged in your head?Finally?Lanzecki is dead."

Killashandra stared at Lars, uncomfortably aware that this was something else she had conveniently managed to forget.She shouldn't forget who was Guild Master.He was the most important person to a crystal singer, to all Heptite Guild members.

"There has to be a Guild Master…" she began, floundering badly as the discomfort swelled and brushed against concepts and images that she didn't want to remember.

"There is a Guild Master, Killashandra."Lars's tone was kind, soothing, his expression concerned."I am the Guild Master now."

"No!"She backed away from the desk.

He jumped to his feet and came round the desk, arms outstretched to her, his expression both desperate and supplicatory.

"I know you've been resisting it, Sunny.I know that you've suppressed the fact of Lanzecki's death, but it is a fact.It's also a fact that I've been appointed Guild Master in his place.I would like you to be my executive partner in this, as you have been my partner in the Ranges."

Killashandra shook her head at him, more and more forcefully as she resisted the sense of his statements.How could Lars become Guild Master?That was absurd.He was her partner.They sang crystal together.They were the best duet the Guild had ever had.They had to return to the Ranges and sing crystal.With Lanzecki dead it was more important than ever that they sing crystal-black crystal, green crystal, blue!A Guild Master didn't have the time to sing crystal. Lars had to sing crystal with her.He couldn't be the Guild Master.

"I know, Sunny," Lars went more kindly."His death is hard to take.He was such a force for us all.I'd like to be as good a leader but I want-I need-your help.You're incontestably the best singer the Guild has.You know more about singing crystal than anyone else, and you can explain what you know.Many can't articulate or convey the information they have locked in their brains.You can.Hell, you taught me!"He grinned with wry flattery."That's only one reason why I need your cooperation and your input."He had come close enough to take her in his arms, trying with his clever hands, to which she had always responded, to soothe her distress and somehow stroke her into acceptance of the hard truths he had given her.

"There, there, Sunny.I see now that I was wrong to let you forget what you didn't want to remember just because I could always remember for you.But now I don't have that luxury.And I need you as my partner more than ever."

"But I'm a crystal singer.I'm not a-an office flunky."

Lars gave a brief laugh."You think Trag was a flunky?"

"Trag was-Trag," Killa finished lamely, casting about for any rebuttal he would accept as her refusal.Lanzecki was Guild Master.He had been and would be.Trag… she wasn't Trag.She wasn't anything like Trag.

"I know it'll take getting used to, Sunny, but accept the reality.Accept me as the Guild Master.I know I'm not Lanzecki, but each Guild Master puts his own stamp on the Guild, and I've got some positive, if bizarre, ideas on how to improve-"

"That's why Lanzecki monopolized you so much," she said in petulant accusation."That's why you had so many meetings with him!"

"Believe me, Killa, I didn't know what Lanzecki was doing.I had no idea that he was briefing me to take over from him.But he did think my ideas had merit…"

Killa stared at the man who had been her constant companion to the point where she could not envision life without him at her side.She stared at his familiar face and wondered that she knew so little about him.

"You could have said no," she whispered, appalled by what he was saying, and by what he wanted of her."You didn't have to accept the appointment."

"Lanzecki suggested it with terms I couldn't refuse."

"You want to be Guild Master!" she accused him.

He shook his head slowly, a sad smile on his lips."No, Sunny, I didn't want to be Guild Master.But I am, and I'm going to improve the Guild, and every kicking, screaming resisting member will benefit."

"Benefit?I don't like the sound of that."She stepped back from him."What's wrong with the Guild the way it is?Who do you think you are to change it?"Her voice rose, shrilling with the growing sense of panic that enveloped her."You're not Lanzecki!You've never cared about the Guild before.Just sailing.That's all you care about-sailing and seas and ships…" And, whirling, she ran from the office.

"Killa, love, let me explain!" he called after her.

She bashed at the lift buttons, begging the door to open and get her out of here.Lars was a seaman, not a Guild Master.Lanzecki was.He always had been.The stable, safe, and secure pivot of her life in the Guild.The door slid open and she jumped inside the car, pounding the panel to make the door close before Lars could reach her.He was going to talk her into this, too, because he could always convince her that his suggestions would work.She wouldn't let him wheedle her into an office job.He would keep her out of the Ranges, keep her from cutting crystal and she would end up like Trag-with less and less symbiont protection.That's what had killed Trag: no protection.

She had to protect herself against Lars now.He would talk her into doing something she did not want to do.The Guild didn't need to be changed!It had run perfectly well for centuries.What could possibly need changing?Well, she wasn't going to help.Best cutter in the Guild, huh?Just the kind of soft talk that had got Lars his way with her too often!Make her a stand-in for Trag, would he?She wasn't old sobersides Trag, critical, unswerving, duty-bound.She was Killashandra Ree.She always would be!The door opened again, and she fled.At first she didn't realize where she was; then, when she recognized the Hangar floor, she gasped with relief.She mustn't let Lars catch up with her.

She'd lose herself in the Ranges and then Lars, the Guild Master, wouldn't be able to find her.She'd go as deep as she could, past any claim they had made together.She'd find new ones, ones he didn't dream existed.She'd cut and cut and she'd show the Guild Master that she was too important a cutter to be restricted to an office!

She was only peripherally aware that the flight officer was trying to tell her something.She repeated her urgent request for her sled.When he seemed recalcitrant, trying to restate his message, she barged past him, running toward the racks where sleds were stored.Hers was in the first rank, so she climbed to it, palmed the cabin door open, and settled herself in the pilot's seat.She checked the engines, slipped on the headpiece, and heard the babble from Operations.

"I want clearance and I don't want any nonsense.I have got to get out into the Ranges.Is that understood?"

Suddenly the voices that were trying to dissuade her went silent.There was a long pause during which she revved the engines and clenched and unclenched her hands on the yoke, waiting for her release.She'd go without it if she had to.She was reaching for the propulsion toggle when the silence ended.

"Killashandra Ree, clear to go," said a tenor voice, flat with a lack of emotion."Good luck, singer!"

She was in such a swivet to depart that she didn't realize that it wasn't the flight officer who released her.She eased the sled out of the rack and headed for the open Hangar door.Once clear, she pointed the nose of the sled north.She allowed the merest margin of distance before she engaged the drive.The relief of her escape diminished the discomfort of gravitational pressure as the sled obediently shot forward, shoving her deep in the cushioning.

The first storm caught her still looking for a possible site.She didn't return to the Guild.She headed further north, skipping across the sea away from the storm, and settled on the North Continent to wait out the heavy weather.She slept most of the interval, then returned to the Ranges and continued her search.

Lack of supplies, especially water, finally drove her back.She stayed only long enough to replenish her stores, ignoring all suggestions from both the flight and cargo officers, both of whom were desperately trying to delay her.Lanzecki probably had something in mind for her, and she didn't want any part of it.

"It isn't Lanzecki, Killa," Cargo insisted, her expression troubled."Donalla-"

"I don't know any Donalla."And Killashandra brushed past the woman and slid into her restocked sled and closed the door firmly.

As she maneuvered the sled out of the Hangar, the flight officer kept wildly pointing to his headphones, wanting her to open up her comline, but she ignored him and sped away, taking a zigzag course at such speed that no one could track her.

She finally found crystal-deep greens in dominants.She was still cutting when the alarms in her sled went off.That made her stop-briefly-and consult her weather sense.For the first time it had not given her advance notice.Or had it?She'd had a few sessions with crystal thrall lately.Perhaps… But it was only the first of the warnings.She had time.

She almost didn't, for the last of the greens, a massive plinth, thralled her, and only the lashing of gale-force winds broke the spell by knocking her off balance and out of the trance.

Frantic to load her cartons, for she obviously hadn't bothered to for several days, she worked against the slimmest margin ever.Luck barely hung on to the fins of her sled, for the crash came on the very edge of the storm, near enough for a crew to rescue the crystal and her battered body.The sled was a write-off.

"Whaddid I cut?How much did I earn?" were Killashandra's first coherent questions when she finally roused from accident trauma.

"Enough, I gather, to replace your sled, Killa," a female voice said.

Killashandra managed to open her eyes, though her lids were incredibly heavy to raise.It was hard to focus, but gradually she was able to distinguish a woman's face.

She retrieved a suitable name with effort."Antona!"

"No, not Antona.Donalla."

"Donalla?"Killa peered earnestly, blinking furiously to clear her sight.She didn't recognize the face."Do I know you?"

"Not very well."There was a slight ripple of amusement in the tone."But a while ago you saved my life."

"I don't remember cutting crystal with anyone."

"Oh, I'm not a singer.I'm a medic.Do you remember anything at all about helping persuade my parents to let me come to Ballybran?"

"No."When Killa began to shake her head to emphasize the negative, she experienced considerable pain."I've had little to do with recruitment," she said repressively."I sing crystal.I don't entice people to it."

"You didn't entice me, Killashandra Ree, but you did give my parents incontrovertible proof that the Ballybran symbiont heals.Fast."

"It has to, doesn't it, to keep singers in the field?I nearly bought it this time, didn't I?"

"As near as makes no never mind," said a man's voice.That one was familiar-and panic welled up in her.Him she didn't want to see.That much she remembered.She turned her head away from the direction of the voice-the Guild Master's voice.

A hand clasped her fingers warmly, the thumb caressing the back of her hand with an intimacy she found both reassuring and insidious.She tried to pull away and hadn't the strength to do so.

"Mangled yourself rather extensively, Sunny.I've always been afraid that would happen.If I'd been there…"

Infuriated, she did manage to snatch her hand free."You weren't.You were in an office.Where the Guild Master has to stay!"She chewed the words out spitefully, and when she saw his face come into her line of vision, she raised her arm, despite the pain, to cover her eyes."You had your chance to cut crystal with me.Go away."She flung her arm in his direction in an effort to strike him.

"I think you'd better go, Lars.Your presence is definitely not reassuring.She's incoherent."

"On the contrary, Donalla, she's most coherent."

"Please, Lars, don't take her seriously.Not now.She's in considerable pain despite the symbiont"

"She'll survive?"

"Oh, most certainly.The lacerations are healing quickly, and the leg bones are almost completely joined.Strained tendons and pulled muscles take a little longer to mend."

"Let me know when she's… herself again, will you, Donalla?And suggest…"

"I'll keep you informed, Lars, and I won't suggest anything right now.It would be totally inappropriate."

Killashandra moved restlessly, subconsciously resenting the friendliness of the exchanges, the subtle inference of a relationship between the two speakers: this Donalla and the man she did not want to acknowledge at all.

"I'm giving you something to put you out a while longer, Killashandra," the woman said, and Killa felt the cold of a spray on her neck."You'll be better when you wake."

"Nothing's ever better when you wake."

It was morning when next she woke, or so the digital on the wall told her.Day, month, and year were never a function of Heptite timekeepers.And, as the Infirmary was deep in the bowels of the Guild, shielded against the ravages of Passover storms, a wall hologram reflected the external weather.Somehow a bright clear morning seemed blasphemous to Killashandra.She groaned.But the bed sensors had already picked up the alteration in her sleep pattern, and the door opened, a bright face peering round it.

"Hungry?"

"Ravenous," Killa said with a groan.Hunger also seemed a travesty to her, and she buried her face in the pillows.

"Be right back."

Food did set immediate needs to rights.Sitting up to eat also emphasized her recuperation.She didn't hurt, though her limbs felt very stiff.She examined her arms and legs and ran wondering fingers down the whitening scars that showed how horrific her wounds had been.Inevitably that reminded her that she had crashed the sled.She couldn't quite face that yet, so she heaved herself out of bed and into the bathroom to run a deep tub of hot water, full of aromatics to ease the lingering stiffness.Finally, refreshed as well as more flexible, she settled at the room terminal and tapped out her personal code.Ignoring the line that invited her to update her memory data, she accessed for her credit balance.For a moment her spirits sank.There wasn't enough to replace the sled.

Wait a minute.There was not enough credit to replace the sled she had crashed, but that one had been a double.She wasn't singing duet any more.She had enough for a single, maybe not top of the line, but sufficient to get her back into the Ranges and, if she bought just basic rations, enough supplies for a month.She tapped out a query about her cutter.If she had banjaxed the cutter, she would be in heavy debt.Not for long, she assured herself.Not for long.She'd cut-blacks again-and show him!She dialed the cutter's facility but no one answered.She couldn't remember the current one's name and stewed over that.She called up the Admin roster to see who it was: "Clarend nab Ost" rang no bells and, evidently, answered no calls to his or her quarters.Fortunately the girl arrived with lunch to distract a growing sense of frustration.

By the time she had finished the second hearty meal, she had also managed to contact Clarend nab Ost, who had a few choice words to say about someone who would leave her cutter unracked, crash, and then expect the tool to be ready to go.She hotly insisted that she always racked her cutter

"So how come it was stuck in the cargo hatch door?" he'd asked snidely.

That silenced her.She was far more appalled by that lapse than she was about crashing the sled or her own injuries.So she apologized profusely, and Clarend finally ended his tirade against careless, derelict, wanton, blase, feeble-minded, lack-witted singers and their sins, errors and shame.Then he told her in a less trenchant tone that he hadn't quite finished repairs and he couldn't vouch for its continued efficiency if she abused it her next time in the Ranges and she was bloody lucky she had a cutter at all the way she'd treated it.

Oddly enough, the episode made her feel somewhat better: things were normal when one got properly chewed out by a technician for blatant irresponsibility.She called the Hangar and asked how long she would have to wait for a replacement single.

"I've enough credit-unless you've jacked the cost up again," she told the supply officer.

"The very idea of our benefiting by your misfortune!Single, you want now?I thought-"

"You're not keeping up with the gossip, Ritwili," she said so angrily that there was a long silence."Haul one out of stock and commission it, provision it.Basic rations for a month.I should be out of here soon."

"Not quite 'soon'," said the medic who had overheard the last of her conversation.

Killa frowned: the woman looked familiar… and yet unfamiliar.Killashandra shrugged, unable to prod recall.

"In case you've forgotten, I'm Donalla Fiske-Ulass, a fellow planetarian from Fuerte," the woman said, advancing to the bed.Her voice ended on an upnote of inquiry.

Killa sighed and shook her head."I don't remember.Don't expect me to."

"Oh, I do.I expect that the woman who saved my life should remember the fact," Donalla said blandly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her clinical coat.She was a very attractive woman, slender without being thin-although the idea of thinness tweaked Killashandra's memory.Her hair was curly and short, and framed a delicate-featured, clever face.She had lovely eyes and exuded an air of authority and competence."Especially when I consider myself under obligation to you."

"There're no obligations in the Guild," Killashandra reminded her.

"Among singers, yes, because you lot are, and have to be, competitive, dedicated and woefully single-minded."Donalla grinned again."So you'll allow me to discharge my obligation to you."

"I said, I don't recognize that there is one."

"You could if you remembered it," Donalla insisted, and something in the almost wheedling tone made Killashandra wary.

"I avoid people trying to do me good," she said in a flat and, she hoped, discouraging voice.

Donalla perched on the edge of the bed and regarded Killashandra for a moment."That's because you haven't heard what the good bit is."

"Do I have to?"Killa sighed resignedly.

"Yes, because the Guild Master has asked me to approach every singer on this matter."

"Oh, He has."Killa set up an immediate resistance to the notion.

Donalla laughed lightly, as if she recognized the reaction and had expected it."Hmmm, yes, well.Quite a few singers have taken me up on my offer."

"Enough of the jollying.Inform me in words of one syllable."

"Don't be churlish, Killashandra Ree."There was a caustic tone to Donalla's voice now that made Killashandra regard her with surprise."Since I recovered my health here, I've tried to figure a way around the most important drawback that all singers face."

"How kind of you!"Killashandra gave a supercilious snort.

"Kindness has little to do with it.An efficient use of singers' time and energies does.Singers lose memory function every time they go into the Ranges.They lose crucial details of the precise location of valuable sites."

"Detail maybe, but not the resonance that'll lead you right back to a good claim," Killashandra said, shaking her head to dismiss Donalla's faulty logic.

"Only if you go right back into the Ranges.How much more convenient it would be to recall the exact locations by accurately remembering the relevant landmarks."

"And leave such information around for other singers to access?No way!Try another on me."

"I'm not trying anything on you.I've already had notable success in accessing memory in crystal-mazed singers' minds."

"You've what?"Killashandra sat up, fury building in her at such an intrusion.Who did this woman think she was?

"I had the Guild Master's authority and it's-"

"Get out of here.I don't want any part of such a scheme.That Guild Master of yours must be out of his gourd to permit such harassment.That's the worst example of privacy invasion I've ever heard."

"But so much information can be restored," Donalla said urgently, bending toward Killashandra in an effort to win her over."So much lost memory can be retrieved."

"I haven't lost anything I want retrieved."Killashandra was a decibel away from a shout."Go peddle your nonsense to someone else, Donalla.Leave me alone!"

"But I want to help you, Killashandra," Donalla said, switching tactics.

"I don't need that kind of help.Now go, or do I have to throw you out?I'm well enough to do so, you know."And she half rose from her chair.

Donalla pushed off the edge of the bed and took a step back, flustered."You'll be helping Lars Dahl as well, you know.Not to mention your Guild."

"Spare me the sentimental violin passage, Donalla.Loyalty is another commodity singers lack and don't need!"Killashandra completed her rise in one fluid movement, delighted that her body would respond so readily.She grabbed Donalla by the arm, turned her toward the door, and forcefully ejected her from the room."And don't come back."

"If you'd only listen…" Donalla began, but Killa shut the door on her entreaty.

"Regression isn't painful!"The woman was incredible, shouting through a closed door at her.With one twist of the volume control, Killa turned on to full whatever program was on the in-room entertainment, drowning out Donalla's voice.Then she threw on the door privacy lock.

For a long moment, she seethed, letting the music, some sort of a baroque chorus, roll over her.The song was familiar to her.She picked up the soprano line, surprised and pleased to be able to add words to the notes.She broke off singing when, even to herself, her voice sounded harsh and strident.

Well, wouldn't it?When she was being harassed by a silly bitch who had made a unilateral decision about what Killashandra Ree "needed"?Only Killashandra Ree could make those decisions.She had earned that right, by all the holies!Ridiculous woman!Absurd notion-reviving a useless baggage of memories.And the Guild Master agreed?

Killa exhaled in disgust, reviewing what Donalla had said.Her memory might be faulty but she had been reading voices for years.She snorted again, remembering tonalities and inflections that told her more than Donalla might have intended. The woman had said Lars's name in a tone that indicated more than casual acquaintance with him, intimating a relationship that was more than work-oriented.They were a fine pair, they were!Well suited!If she'd known the woman would take on this way, behaving like a conscience, she'd've let her die in the Recruitment Room.

"There, too, I can remember-when I want to!"Killa muttered to herself.Then she laughed as she heard the childish petulance in her voice.She remembered the important things, like how to fly a sled, how to locate claims, how to cut-and, most important of all, she generally remembered what to cut in order to get top market value on her crystal.What more did she need to remember?The petty details of everyday life?The trivia that clogged the brain and got in the way: the incidents that humiliated or enraged, the bilge, bosh, claptrap that happened while traveling, things inconsequential when one would only be visiting the world once?

What about remembering the new world?

If it was worthwhile, interesting, or exciting, I'll remember it, she told herself.

Will you?

I can, if I want to!I can!

She slept away the afternoon and awoke to hear a tentative tapping on her door.It was the bright little infirmary aide wanting to serve her dinner.She ate heartily, trying to ignore the fact that someone had gone to the trouble of ordering a selection of her favorite foods.That would pad the charges for her Infirmary usage.Ah, well.She'd always paid for exotics, and the Yarran beer did go down a treat!

She didn't see the irritating Donalla over the next three days, but had several sessions with therapists, who worked to help her regain full muscle tone.She retrieved her cutter from Clarend, who warned her again to remember-remember-that she couldn't abuse her cutter again or she would have to replace it.She took possession of a sparkling brand-new sled.

"I won't tell you how many you've banged up over the years, Killa," Ritwili told her in a sour tone as he extended the purchase order for her signature."And stocking it took the rest of your credit.You're in the red right now-so cut well!"

She paused long enough to contact Clodine and find out what crystal she ought to look for.

"Someone's wanting those deep amethysts and, of course, any black you stumble across," Clodine said with a grin."You've a natural affinity for them anyway, and blacks are always needed."

"Yeah."Killa wasn't all that happy with her affinity.She liked the money from blacks but not cutting them solo.They tended to thrall more easily than any other color."I'll remember that."

She was not the only singer departing the Guild Hangar that day: fifteen others were making ready and each of them was determined to be the last one out and thus not only see the direction every other singer was taking but conceal his or her own ultimate destination.

Disgusted, Killashandra gave up waiting.At this rate, it would be dark before she made any significant progress into the Range.Noting the marks of age and misuse on most of the other vehicles, she realized that with her new sled, she could easily outfly any of them.She asked, and received, clearance, along with a heartfelt thanks from the flight officer, who was losing patience with the dilatory singers.

"Blinding damn paranoid, the lot of 'em," he muttered, forgetting to close the circuit.

"You better believe it," Killa said with a laugh, and eased her new vehicle through the Hangar's immense outer doors.

The exchange put Killashandra in a good mood, which improved when she heard five other singers suddenly demanding clearance.Well, she'd show them!

Capriciously she zipped off at a speed inappropriate for her proximity to the Hangar, laughing at the flight officer's irate reprimand.Running at a recklessly low altitude over the uneven terrain of the foothills, she built the sled up to maximum power as fast as she dared.

"Try to follow me now, you dorks!Shatter yourself on the hills trying!"

She let out a musical hurrah as the ground hurtled past her.Lyrics to the aria deserted her, but she sang on, using vowels and singing at the top of her lungs, reveling in her renewed freedom.