"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."