Crystal Singer

by Anne McCaffrey

  Meanwhile, the cruiser was fast closing with its home system on its hyperbolic trajectory. Killashandra’s appetite had leveled off, a relief to herself as well as to Pendel’s dwindling supply of her requirements. Passover was occurring over Ballybran, and conjunction was as imminent as her first installation. She judiciously kept the stimulant tabs on her person.

  The change in the crystal drive tone heralded her first unexpected nap. Tic’s insistent tapping on her door panel roused her.

  “Captain Francu’s compliments, Killashandra Ree, and would you follow me to the bridge?”

  Tic was suddenly very formal, not so much as a shy answering smile to Killashandra’s acknowledgment. She followed the sub, much refreshed by her sleep, but she felt for the stimutabs in her sash pocket

  The bridge, a misnamed cavern midship, was busy and full. Tic found the captain among those circled about the dimension tank, caught his attention, presented Killashandra, and retreated.

  “If you will observe the tank, Guild Member,” the captain began at his most overbearing.

  “I would if I could,” Killashandra said, and smiling sweetly, inserted her hip between two male bodies and with a deft twist pushed the men sideways so that she occupied their previous vantage point. She left one officer between her and Francu, consoling the startled man with a soothing glance. “Ah, yes, fascinating.” She was fascinated, though she wanted to give the distinct impression that this was scarcely the first time she had been on a bridge or gazed at a dimension tank. The cruiser was a very tiny blip, coasting inward, past the orbit of the outermost planet, toward the primary. Blinking lights indicated major mining stations in the asteroid belts; two tiny solid lights, the two moon bases. The bright planet, fourth from the primary, exuded a supercilious superiority despite being the last to be settled in the hard-working system.

  “We are coasting now, Guild Member, if you haven’t noticed the change of the drive—”

  “A Crystal Singer is unusually sensitive to crystal drive, Captain—an occupational skill.”

  Francu set his jaw, unused to being interrupted for any reason.

  “We are traveling on a hyperbolic course that will intersect the orbit of the two mining stations, which have deviated from their courses to meet us—”

  “Sometimes progress can be awkward—”

  Francu glared at her. “The moon bases provide no problem on their relative planes, though Terris will require a longer shuttle flight—”

  “You will have a far more difficult maneuver in catching up with your planet, won’t you?” and Killashandra pointed.

  “Not at all,” and it was Francu’s turn to be scornful. “Merely a question of braking, using the planetary attraction, pick up the sun’s gravitic pull marginally, deflect away and on to our next destination.”

  “How very clever of you.” Killashandra winced inwardly, wondering why the man’s simplest explanation evoked the worst side of her nature.

  “You must realize, Guild Member, how tight the schedule is. I was informed that mounting the crystal takes no more than six minutes. We shall need every spare second available to get you to and away from these installation points—particularly at the planet. You do understand the spatial considerations?”

  “It has always seemed essentially simple when expertly and efficiently handled, Captain Francu. I’m sure there’ll be no problem.” Six minutes. That gave her quite a safety margin, or had Trag in mind the lethargy that would soon overcome her? She gazed at the dimensional tank, smiling diffidently. Problem was, if she took less than six minutes installing at one point, it still wouldn’t affect her arrival at the next one. “Thank you, Captain. May I have updated printout as we near each installation point?”

  “Certainly. You will be given eighteen minutes warning before each shuttle run.”

  “As much as that?” Again, Killashandra was reacting to Francu’s grating manner.

  “Ah, yes, I have to take the crystal from the super’s locked room.”

  “Really, Captain, no one will steal it in Trundimoux space and, until all the elements are installed, they are quite harmless. The container can be webbed in at the shuttle lock for easier access now and give you that much more time to spare.”

  Captain Francu’s anxiety about crystal itself warred with his time factors. He accorded her a stiff bow and turned resolutely back to contemplation of his dimensional tank.

  “Close to first objective and give me a deviation check.”

  “How long before the first objective, Captain?”

  “Five hours, six minutes, and thirty-six seconds, Guild Member.”

  Killashandra moved away from the tank, her place quickly taken by those she had ousted. She nodded to Tic, and the subbie, with an air of intense relief, hurried to guide her away from the bridge.

  She would have liked to stay and watch the cruiser angle toward the first mining station, a delicate and tedious affair since four dimensions—five, really, if one considered the captain’s obsession with the time factor—were involved.

  Six minutes in which to cement or change the attitudes of an entire system, six minutes five times gave her exactly one-half hour prime time. Killashandra smiled to herself. The Trundimoux system had traditions already. She’d add to them an extrastellar treat. She’d alter Francu’s plan merely to slip in and slip out to a significant occasion that should be one of the greatest rejoicing for the Trundimoux—they could talk with each other: surely a moment for ceremony rather than secrecy. Six minutes wasn’t much time. She would see to it that it was enough, and a whole new mass of rumor about Crystal Singers would circulate.

  Trundimoux clothing was wildly colored, and bits of metal were woven into the fabric to refract whatever light was available. Even the life-support units blazed with color, shocking oranges and vibrant pinks. Offensive as such hues were to Killashandra, they served a purpose for the Trundimoux space-bred population.

  While the cruiser jockeyed toward its first destination, the mining station named Copper, she created her costume. Black for the crystal she would carry: black and flowing to stand out against the gaudy Trundimoux in their tight-fitting garb. She wished for some of the cosmetics she had abandoned in her student cubicle at Fuerte, but she was tall enough to stand out, in black, her hair loose to her shoulder blades, unusual enough in a society of space-goers with shaved or clipped hair.

  Six minutes! That time bothered her even though she had mounted the mock crystals in far less. Then she remembered. Crystal was what she would be handling. She could get lost in touching crystal. She might, at that, be grateful to Francu and his neat slots of time. She could count on him to break a crystal trance. But she mustn’t fall into one. That would spoil the image she wished to create. She worried about that problem until Tallaf arrived to escort her.

  “Cutter’s ready and waiting, ma’am,” he said, alertly poised and very formal.

  “And the crystal?”

  Tallaf cleared his throat; his eyes avoided hers, although she rather thought that the young man was amused.

  “Supercargo Pendel has conveyed the container to the lock, awaiting your arrival. All webbed and secure.”

  Indeed the carton was, with a double row of alert guards standing as far from the crystal as they could in the confines of the lock. The sides and bottom of the carton were webbed securely to the deck, but the top had been unsealed. One of the guards carried a seal-gun on his belt.

  Killashandra strode forward, remembering to keep her full skirts clear of her toes.

  “Open it,” she said to no one in particular. There was a brief hesitation, then Pendel performed that office, winking at her surreptitiously.

  To her intense relief, the five crystals had been cocooned before shipment. She did not need to handle raw crystal until she reached the actual installation point. She picked up the small package, feeling the mild shock with a double sense of relief. Crystal knew she was there and responded but bided its time. And this was real crystal. She
’d had a sudden horrid thought that, in a crazy set of errors, the mock shafts had been sent instead.

  She held the package straight-armed before her as she walked to the cutter’s entrance. No sooner was she seated than everyone seemed to move at double speed, webbing her in, taking their own places as the hatch was sealed. She was forced back into her cushions by the acceleration away from the cruiser.

  “Are we running behind time, Tallaf?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am, precisely on time.”

  “How far from the station lock to the communications room?”

  “Exactly five minutes and twenty seconds.”

  “In free-fall?” Free-fall in this gown would be ridiculous. She wished she’d thought of that aspect before.

  Tallaf looked surprised.

  “All but the very small detector units have gravity, ma’am.”

  The cutter fired retrorockets, again pushing her into the cushions.

  “I thought we were on time.”

  “We are, ma’am, but we’re correcting to match velocities.”

  A second spate of jockeying occurred, but the actual docking was no more than a cousinly kiss. The deck crew was again working double time, and infected by their pace, she rose and entered the first of the mining stations. The five minutes and twenty seconds of travel time within Copper was spent twisting down corridors and jumping over security frames. She prided herself on managing all the awkward bits without stumbling or losing her balance, the cocoon of crystal held before her so that all could see. And many people were gathered at intersections wanting a glimpse of the momentous occasion.

  It is a shame, Killashandra thought as she was ushered into the communications nerve center of the Copper Station, that this was not the linkage point. Nothing really exciting would happen here or on the other stations until the final shaft was fitted and their bonding would produce the instantaneous link.

  Still, she was conscious of stares, hostile and thoughtful, as she was directed to the installation point. It was on the raised outer level of the huge room, an excellent vantage.

  Killashandra mounted the shallow steps, her quick glance checking the brackets to be sure they were correct, and then turned to the center of the area. She stripped the plastic from the cocoon and held up the dull, muddy shaft. She heard the gasps as the assembled saw for the first time what they had mortgaged their system to buy. Even as she heard their mumble, the crystal warmed in her hands, turning the matte black, which gave it its name. It vibrated against her hands, and before she could fall in trance, she whirled and laid the crystal in its place. The pressure arms moved silkily at her light touch. She brought the upper brackets to bear and, one finger on the still darkening crystal, increased the pressure on each side carefully. The crystal began to resonate along her finger, making her throat ache. She fought the desire to caress the crystal and made her hands complete the installation. As if burned, she snatched her hands back from the beautiful crystal mass. She took the small hammer and tapped the mounted crystal. Its pure note sang through the room’s sudden hush.

  Head high, she strode from the chamber, Tallaf running to get ahead of her, to lead her back to the cutter through the station’s twists and turns.

  Each step took her farther from the crystal, and she twisted with the pain of that separation. Another small matter no one had explained to her before: that it would be so difficult to leave crystal she had herself cut.

  The brief ride to the cruiser did ease that pain. And so did the lethargy that slowly overcame her. It couldn’t, she decided, be fatigue from that little bit of dramatization. It must be the sleepies that she’d been warned about. Conjunction was very near. Fortunately, she managed to stay awake until she reached her quarters.

  “Tic, if I am disturbed for any reason whatsoever before the next station, I’ll dismember the person! Understood? And pass that on to Pendel just to make sure.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Tic was trustworthy, and Pendel had authority.

  Killashandra slid sideways onto the hard bunk, pulled the thin cover over her, and slept.

  It seemed no time at all before a thumping and Tac’s anxious voice called her politely but insistently.

  “I’m coining. The next station has been reached?” She swallowed the stimulant, forced her eyes wide in an attempt to appear alert as she opened the door.

  Tallaf was there with a tray of food, which she imperiously waved away.

  “You’ll need some refreshment, Killashandra,” the young officer said, concern overcoming his previous formality.

  “Are we at the next station?”

  “I thought you’d need something to eat first.”

  She reached for the Yarran beer, trying not to exhibit the revulsion she felt at the smell of what once would have been a tempting meal. Even the beer tasted wrong.

  “I’ll just take this in my room,” she said, closing the door panel and wondering if the nausea was due to the pill, the beer, her symbiont, or nerves. She made illicit use of drinking water and splattered her face. The effect was salutary. Without a qualm, she poured the Yarran beer down the waste disposal. Pendel would never know.

  Tallaf rapped at her door panel again. This time, Killashandra was alert; the stimulant had taken effect. She swept forward, secure in the false energy and aware that more of the cruiser’s crew were in evidence as she made her way to the lock.

  Pendel was unlashing the top of the crystal carton, stepping back to give her space to extract the next crystal. Holding it at arm’s length in front of her, Killashandra was congratulating herself on her smooth routine when she tripped getting over the cutter’s hatch. She’d best raise the skirt a trifle in front before the first moon installation. However, no one had noticed her slight gracelessness, and she settled down for the ride.

  Station Iron was larger than Station Copper but as haphazardly contrived as far as companionways, hatches, and corridors were concerned.

  “This is more than five minutes twenty seconds, Tallaf,” she said in a stern voice of complaint, wondering how long the stimutab lasted.

  “Just in here, now.”

  Communications obviously rated more unfragmented space than any other of the stations’ functions. And the larger station was reflected in the larger crowd that crammed into the area. Killashandra stripped the cocoon from the black crystal, held it up for all to see, and deposited it deftly in its position before it could woo her from her duties. Or maybe the stimulant helped counteract crystal’s effect. Nonetheless, Killashandra still experienced the pain of leaving behind her forever the shaft of darkening crystal.

  The stimulant kept her functioning on the slightly longer swing to catch up with the cruiser. She graciously accepted Pendel’s offer of Yarran beer but, once alone, poured it down the drain. She squandered a day’s water ration to quench her thirst and reached her bunk before sleep again overtook her.

  It was harder for her to wake up when Tic roused her at the first moon. One stimulant kept her awake on the outbound trip, a second got her through the installation, but Tallaf had to wake her to disembark at the cruiser. Pendel insisted she eat something, though she could barely keep her eyes open. She did have soup and some succulent fruit since her mouth was dry and her skin felt parched. She ached for the crystal she had consigned forever to an airless moon.

  Three stimulants roused her sufficiently for the fourth installation, and she had to sneak one into her mouth as she set the crystal in its brackets. She was doing her high priestess routine by reflex, only peripherally aware of the blur of faces that followed her every movement and the thrilled sigh as the crystal’s pure note sounded in the communications room.

  One thing she could say for the Trundimoux, when they found an efficient structure, they kept repeating it. All the communications rooms were of the same design. Blind, she could have found her way to the crystal mounting. Walking back, she kept tripping on the skirt hem she’d not had time to alter. Then Tallaf put one arm under hers. She concentrat
ed on smiling serenely at the assembled until she had reached the cutter. She collapsed with relief into her seat.

  “You’re all right, Killashandra?” Tallaf was asking.

  “Just tired. You’ve no idea how difficult it is to surrender crystal you’ve cut yourself. They cry when you leave them. Let me sleep.”

  But for that chance remark to Tallaf, Killashandra might have been forced to endure the ministrations of Chasurt, for her alternate periods of intense vivacity and somnolence had not gone unremarked. Nor were the opponents of the crystal communications purchase impressed by small unscintillating blocks received in exchange for massive drone loads of high-quality metals.

  The moment he had seen Killashandra safely to her cabin, Tallaf had a word with Pendel. Pendel spoke quickly to others, and Chasurt was summoned to deal with a minor epidemic of food poisoning, investigate two other illnesses that required lengthy tests, and then was required to consult, at ordinary space-message exchange pauses, on a serious space-burn casualty.

  Killashandra was roused for the longer shuttle flight to the planet’s surface for the final installation. The extended sleep had been beneficial, and although she ran nervous fingers over the short length of stimulant tabs remaining, Killashandra thought she could defer their use. She accepted the fruit and glucose drink Pendel offered her, though she would dearly have loved water, even the stale recycled water the cruiser supplied.

  She felt equal to this final scene until she saw the crystal container. Abruptly, she realized that this largest piece would be the hardest to surrender. She didn’t dare have it on her lap all during the journey to the planet’s surface.

  “Bring the container on board. The king crystal will be safer that way,” she said, curtly gesturing. She entered the shuttle before anyone could countermand her instruction.