Crystal Line Read online

  "Anything good in?" Lanzecki asked.

  Killa regarded him coolly. The Guild Master ought to have been the first to know the answer to that question.

  "Lars and I have been discussing the Junk to the exclusion of all else." Lanzecki raised his wineglass in a toast to her, then included Lars. "Interesting . . . Junk. I'm almost sorry I have to turn the matter over to the proper authority."

  "Junk's sentient," Killa said flatly, helping herself to food.

  "Too bad sentience isn't a marketable commodity," Lanzecki said. "Have some milsi stalks!" he added, passing her the plate and changing the subject.

  "What under the suns were you and Lanzecki up to for half a day?" she asked Lars as she swung her legs up onto the sleeping surface of their bedroom.

  He yawned mightily, stepping up off the floor and walking to the pillowed end, where he folded down and began to wriggle into a comfortable position.

  "The Junk mostly, and speculation as to whether or not it could use the crystal as a comlink. I doubt it. And this and that." Lars punched a pillow into the right contours and stuck it under his head, watching her as she rolled up against him. He lifted one arm, a tacit invitation to nestle against him. She did. "He misses Trag."

  "Did you find out what crystal-crazed notion made him pick that dork in Trag's place?"

  She settled her cheek against Lars's smooth chest. At some point he, too, had bathed, for his skin exuded a subtly spicy odor. Lanzecki preferred spicy scents. What could these two be dreaming up together? She wondered. Lars had never used to tolerate Lanzecki at all, he'd been so possessive of her.

  His fingers lazily trailed across her back, and she forgot about all other concerns and began to stroke him where it would do the most good. Somehow, despite being reasonably sure that Brendan's shipboard manners were impeccable, they had never quite been able to abandon themselves on the 1066. They proceeded to indulge each other shamelessly.

  Uninhibited loving was the best!

  The comunit buzzed until they woke, or rather until Lars waved his hand at the panel and accepted the call.

  "Lars? Can you spare me the morning?" Lanzecki asked.

  Killashandra groaned at the sound of his voice, but she didn't quite take in the message. She flattened her body against the bedding and determinedly resumed her interrupted slumbers. So when she did wake, she wasn't quite certain what had happened to Lars. There was no residual heat left where his body had been.

  She roused, washed, and ordered food. As usual, the latter triggered an interruption.

  "Killa? I'm up in Lanzecki's office."

  "Humph! What's he got you doing now?"

  She could hear the amusement in Lars's voice. "Actually, he's got me interested in spite of myself, and you know I'm not an admin type."

  "No, you're not."

  "Don't be so sour, Sunny. It's a bright day, and we don't have to go cut crystal—yet!"

  "Well, I can't say as I mind that . . ." Killa said, as much because that was the expected answer. Then she began to wonder. "Lars, what are you—" But the call had been disconnected at his end.

  More curious than disgruntled, Killa finished her meal, dressed, and went up to Lanzecki's office. There, the mere sight of Bollam, hunched over his terminal, annoyed her. His frantic look and his sudden intense interest in the contents of his screen added to her aggravation.

  She couldn't resist twitting him. "Lost something, Bollam?"

  "Ah, yes, that is, no! No, I'm merely not sure under what category Trag filed the pencil data files."

  "Try the first four letters of whatever file you're hunting, the year if you know it, and hit Search." She meant to be facetious and was irritated that her advice seemed to solve his problem. She caught a glimpse of his relieved smile as she continued on her way into the office.

  "Haven't you two moved?" she demanded as she saw them in positions similar to yesterday's.

  "I never knew just how much power the Guild wields," Lars said, beckoning to her in an airy fashion.

  "You ought to," Killa said, scowling at Lanzecki. "We trade rather heavily on it whenever we leave Ballybran."

  "I don't mean as singers, Killa, but the Guild as a force in interstellar politics. And policies."

  "Oh?"

  "And all without having to leave Ballybran! Whoever needs to speak to the Heptite Guild must come here!" Lars chuckled with an almost boyish delight. Lanzecki wore just the slightest smile as he glanced over at her.

  To Killashandra that cynical amusement meant Lanzecki was building to something devious. She cocked her head at him. He shook his head very slightly in denial.

  "I've a meeting later today, Killa. I'd appreciate it if you and Lars would sit in on it."

  Killa jerked her finger over her shoulder in the direction of Bollam. "He's your assistant."

  The fleeting shift of Lanzecki's dark eyes told her that he didn't expect much of Trag's replacement, and his lack of such expectation worried her all the more.

  "Yesterday Enthor, today Trag?" she asked, mockingly.

  "I'd appreciate your counsel," he said, bending his upper body just slightly toward her in an unexpected bow.

  She wondered how he knew that deference would insure her support. Probably. Lanzecki had usually been able to read her, at times better than Lars did. She realized then that she usually compromised with Lars more than she would have with Lanzecki. But then, she wanted to. She trusted Lars Dahl more than she had ever trusted Lanzecki, even when they had been passionate lovers. Or maybe because of that!

  "Bollam? Have you got those trade figures?" Lanzecki called out.

  "Still working" was the all too quick reply.

  A look of pained patience crossed Lanzecki's face.

  "I remember Trag's system," Killa said, turning on her heel and retracing her steps to the worktop where Bollam was plainly unable to find the relevant pencil files. "Move over," she told the flustered man. "Now who's coming?"

  "The Apharian Four Satellite Miners League," he said, both resenting her usurpation and relieved that finding the documentation was now someone else's responsibility.

  She typed "Apha4SML.doc" and obediently the recalcitrant entry blossomed across the screen. Bollam groaned.

  "I did, I tried that. I really did."

  "The library banks know an authoritative punch when they get one," she said, shrugging. She tapped a deliver.

  "He wants the Interstellar Miners League, as well."

  "What year?"

  "Twenty-seven sixty-six."

  Killa frowned. Twenty-seven sixty-six? When had she left Fuerte, storming out of her native planet with that crystal singer—ah, what was his name? Had it been 2699? Or 2599? She shook her head in irritation, then concentrated on tapping out the required sequence. The new files joined the others in the delivery slot. She was a lot better at his job than Bollam was. She gave him not even a look as she gathered up the files and brought them in to Lanzecki and Lars.

  Lanzecki gave her a grateful smile as he began feeding them into the reader slot. He folded his arms across his chest as the first one came up on the monitor.

  Feeling an obligation to assist the Guild Master, Killa stayed on, as Lars did. She accessed additional data when Lanzecki asked for it, ignoring Bollam when he hovered in an attempt to figure out how she found files so easily. At first it amused her that Lars and Lanzecki worked together so effortlessly. She wondered that, at times, Lanzecki seemed to defer to Lars's opinions. Certainly he tapped them into his own notes.

  Then the representatives arrived for the meeting, properly attired against breathing Ballybran air. Lanzecki, hands on the backs of Killashandra and Lars, steered them into the conference room.

  The Apharian Miners League wanted to extend their communications link in the asteroid belt they were currently working. They could not afford black crystal.

  "Black crystal isn't needed for belt comunits. Blue will do as well and is half the price," Lanzecki said. "Here are specifications and
costs." He inserted a pencil file in the screen reader, and specs and relative costs were displayed on the large monitor for all to see.

  "Even that's out of our budget," the head delegate said, shaking his helmeted head.

  "I doubt it," Lanzecki said bluntly. A tap of his finger and their trade figures replaced the spec/cost data.

  Another delegate, a woman with sharp features and narrow-set eyes, glared first at the screen and then at him. "How did you obtain restricted data?"

  "I particularly like to assemble 'restricted' data," Lanzecki replied.

  "You could go to a green-crystal connection," Lars suggested. "Of course there is a longer time lag in communication, especially for any distant units. The blue link is unquestionably faster. Basically you get what you pay for. The option is always yours."

  Though Killashandra kept her expression bland, she was amused by Lars's hard-line pose. She had rarely seen that facet of his personality. He was as cool and uncompromising as Lanzecki. An interesting development.

  "At present we have the necessary blue-crystal cuts such an installation would require," Killa said smoothly. She gave a little shrug with one shoulder. "Who knows when we'd have sufficient green. It's not an easy color to cut. Nearly as elusive as black. Which we also don't have on hand. You might have a long wait for quality black crystal."

  "We can't afford that quality crystal," the woman said, almost spitting the words out over her helmet mike. "But we did expect that, in making the effort to come here and outline our need, you might be amenable to a deal."

  Lanzecki cleared his throat dismissively. "Your League has nothing this Guild requires. The Guild has what you require, and at the advertised price." He rose. "You either take it or do without. It's up to you."

  Lars and Killa moved to bracket him.

  "Wait!" the head of the delegation said, his expression anxious. "You don't understand. We've had accidents, deaths, problems, all due to a lack of adequate communications. We must have a reliable comsystem."

  "Blue is available. You can wait for green, if that's all you can afford." Lanzecki spoke with no emotion whatever. He really didn't care one way or another

  Killashandra saw hatred sparkle in the eyes of the woman.

  "My husband and my two sons died in an accident . . ."

  Lanzecki turned halfway to her and inclined his head. "A singer died and two more were seriously injured acquiring the blue crystal. We have both lost, and we can both gain."

  "You heartless—" The woman launched herself at Lanzecki, screaming other epithets in her frustration at his diffidence.

  Lars intercepted her neatly even as Killashandra moved to interpose her body to protect Lanzecki's back.

  "Lideen, don't!" the leader said, reaching her first. He grabbed her by the arms and passed her to the other members of his party. He took a deep breath before he went on. "Guild Master, I do recognize that sentiment has no place in business."

  "In either yours or mine," Lanzecki replied with cool courtesy.

  "You singers have crystal for blood! Crystal for hearts!" Lideen yelled as the other two miners' reps hauled her out of the room.

  "The Guild does not make deals," Lars added. "The integrity of our price scale has to be maintained. Two options are currently open to you. You can, of course, wait until there is a glut of blue crystal on the market, which would bring the unit price down, but there is no downward market forecast on blue crystal at the moment. Or you can install green when it is available. Your credit balance indicates that your League is able to fund either. It's up to you to decide."

  As Killashandra followed Lanzecki and Lars to the door, she sneaked a look over her shoulder and saw the hesitation on the leader's face. He wanted the crystal badly; he knew he could pay for it; he was just trying it on as standard operating procedure. But he had obviously never approached this Guild before. Quite likely, there'd be an order from the Apharian League before the Apharians departed Shankill Moon Base. Someone should have warned them not to haggle with Lanzecki and the Heptite Guild. Most people knew that. Still, there were always those who would chance their arms to save a few credits. Only this group had forgotten that mining crystal was not so very much different to mining asteroids: the result of failure bore the same cost.

  She shrugged.

  "Damn fools," she heard Lanzecki say as she closed the door to the conference room.

  He stalked across to the table at which he and Lars had been working, slammed a new file into the reader slot, and stared at the display.

  That wasn't like Lanzecki, and Killashandra blinked in surprise. Lars gave an imperceptible shake of his head; she shrugged and dismissed the matter.

  By the seventh day, when Lars hadn't mentioned going out into the Ranges, she did.

  "Did those Apharians order? Or should we concentrate on finding some green crystal?" she asked when he finally appeared late that evening.

  "Huh?"

  Lars's mind was clearly on other matters. She felt excluded and that made her irritable. They were partners, close partners, and shared everything.

  "I thought we came back to cut crystal, not sit around playing diddly with pencil files."

  He gave her one of his quick, apologetic grins. "Well, we can depart in a day or two."

  She raised her eyebrows, trying for a light touch.

  "Are you aiming to take over from Bollam?"

  "From Bollam?" He stared at her in amazement, then laughed, pulling her into his arms. "Not likely, when I've the best partner in the whole Guild. It's just that—well, I can't help being flattered when Lanzecki keeps asking my advice, now can I?"

  "I don't mean to denigrate your advice, but that's not like Lanzecki."

  "Too true, Sunny, too true," he said with a sad sigh. "I'd hazard that he misses Trag more than he'd admit."

  "Then why did he take on such a want-wit as Bollam! There must be someone more qualified!"

  Lars grinned at her vehemence and rocked her close in his arms. "Did you find anyone to replace him over the last few days?"

  She pushed him away, glaring reprovingly at him. She had thought her search discreet enough.

  "Oh, there's little going on here that Lanzecki doesn't hear about sooner or later. He said to tell you that he appreciated your efforts. Bollam suits his needs."

  Killa swore.

  "Hey, I wouldn't mind a late-night snack," Lars said, hauling her with him to the catering unit. "And yes, the Apharians ordered the blue, still registering complaints about the cost and issuing veiled statements about unethical access and invasion of commercial privacy and all that wind and piss."

  Two days later Killashandra and Lars lifted their sled out of the Hangar and headed east, toward the Milekey Ranges. Behind them a second sled departed, but immediately struck out on a nor' easterly course.

  "That's Lanzecki's," Killashandra said in surprise.

  "Yes, that's why he's been working such long hours, to clear all current business. He'll be the better for a spell in the Ranges. That's all he needs, really."

  "But with Bollam?"

  "I'll grant you that I've qualms, but who knows? Bollam might turn out to be top-rank cutter. Or why would Lanzecki shepherd him?"

  "Shepherd him?" Killa blinked. "Bollam's not been blooded in the Ranges yet?" She recalled the fine crystal scars on Bollam's hands and arms. "He's cuts enough."

  Lars grinned. "I heard tell that he was the clumsiest apprentice they ever had on the Hangar floor. He's lucky to find anyone to shepherd him, the number of singers he annoyed dropping crystals when he was unloading sleds."

  Killa muttered uncomplimentary epithets about Bollam.

  "I suppose that sort of duty does fall with Lanzecki," Lars went on with a sigh, "shepherding the ones no one else will take to initiate."

  "I don't envy him the job, that's for sure."

  "Nor I." Lars turned to grin at her, his eyes deep with affection. "But then, I had the best of all possible partners."

  "You!" She
faked a cuff to his jaw. She could, and did, envy Bollam the chance to be shepherded by Lanzecki on his first trip to the Ranges: the twit didn't deserve such an honor. Odd, though; she would have thought Lanzecki would have blackmailed someone else to shepherd Bollam, reserving his own talents to take the rough edges off the man once he'd been exposed to the Ranges.

  "Where'll we head, partner?" Lars asked her as they entered the Milekey.

  Killashandra grimaced. The usual ambivalence surged up in mind and body. A singer cut crystal to leave the Ranges as frequently as possible. But a singer also had to renew herself with the crystal she cut. The more she cut out of a certain lode, the easier it was to find it later. If she went off-planet for any length of time, that attraction diminished. But a singer had to go off-planet to ease the crystal pulse in her blood. Cutting too much was almost, not quite, as much a hazard as cutting too little. With Lars, she had often been able to cut just enough, which was the main advantage of singing duet.

  "Can you remember where we cut those greens a couple of trips back?"

  Lars gave her a long thoughtful look.

  "What's wrong?" she asked. "We have cut greens, and with none available it seems sensible to get top market price on something."

  "Why don't we go for black?"

  "You know how hard it is to find black, good black," she replied in a cranky tone. She didn't want to cut blacks—ever.

  "Green it is," he said, and slightly altered the sled's course. "Our marker may have faded a lot," he went on. "Lots of storms have passed over since we cut green."

  "Not that many!"

  He said nothing and accelerated the sled. "It'll be a while. Settle down."

  She watched the jagged pinnacles of the Range. Paint splotches, old and new, indicated claims. Once she would have recognized markers by their color and pattern. She didn't try any more. Theirs was a black and yellow herringbone design, which Lars had thoughtfully painted on the console. She often cursed that choice, because it was hell to paint the pattern on uneven rock surfaces, but she had to admit that the black and yellow herringbones had high visibility.

  The sled plowed through the skies, the sweep of peak and pinnacle flowing past her in an almost mesmerizing blur. Below a relatively fresh paint splotch, she caught the metallic glitter of a sled half-hidden under a canyon overhang.