“Please, no fuss,” Killashandra said.
“Gracious Guildmember,” the Inspector began effusively, “we have been so concerned. The cabin reserved for you on the Athena – ”
“I traveled economy.”
“But you’re a Heptite Guildmember!”
“There are times, Inspector,” Killashandra said, bending close to him and touching his arm, “when discretion requires that one travel incognito.” The hair stood up on the back of his hand. She sighed.
“Oh, I see.” And clearly he did not. He unconsciously smoothed the hair back down.
They had walked the short distance to the next portal, which slid apart to reveal a welcoming committee of four, three men and a woman, slightly breathless. “The Guildmember has arrived!” The Inspector’s triumphant announcement left the distinct impression that he himself had somehow conjured her appearance.
Killashandra stared apprehensively at them. They had a disconcerting resemblance to each other, not only a sameness of height and build but of coloring and feature. Even their voices were pitched in the same sonorous timber. She blinked, thinking it might be some trick of the soft yellow sunshine pouring in from the main reception area. Then she gave herself a little shake: all were government employees, but could any bureaucracy, Optherian or other, hire people on the basis of their uniform appearance?
“Welcome to Optheria, Guildmember Ree,” the Inspector said, beaming as he ushered her past the portal, which whispered shut behind them.
“Welcome, Killashandra Ree, I am Thyrol,” the first and oldest man said, taking one step toward her and bowing.
“Welcome, Killashandra Ree, I am Pirinio,” said the second, following the example of the first.
In unvarying ceremony, Polabod and Mirbethan made themselves known to her. Had they practiced long?
“I am truly welcomed,” she said with a gracious semibow. “The crystal? It was aboard the shuttle.”
All four looked to her right, left hands rising from their sides at the same instant, to indicate the float appearing through a second portal. Nullgravs suspended float and cartons above the gold-flecked marble floor but proper guidance apparently required six attendants, each wearing an anxious frown of concentration. A seventh man directed their efforts, dancing from one side to the other to be certain that nothing impeded their progress. These citizens of Optheria were reassuringly mismatched in size, form, and feature.
“We four,” Thyrol began, indicating his companions with a twist of his hand, “are to be your guides and mentors during your stay on Optheria. You have only to state your wishes and preferences and we – Optheria – will provide.”
The four bowed again, like a wave from right to left. The Inspector beside her also bowed. Thyrol lifted one eyebrow and the Inspector, bowing again as he surrendered Killashandra’s carisak to Pirinio, formally receded until the portal hissed apart and then closed. Killashandra wondered if the Inspector’s euphoria would extend to lesser breeds, those without Guild affiliation, when he resumed his booth in Immigration.
“If you will step this way, Guildmember Ree.” Thyrol made another of his graceful gestures.
When she moved to walk beside him, he altered his stride to keep a deferential meter from her. The others fell in behind. Killashandra shrugged, accepting the protocol. Not having to chat with her escort gave her a chance to glance about the shuttle port. The facility was functional and decorated with murals of Life on Optheria: the main attraction of the Summer Festival – the organ – was not depicted. Nor did the vaulted arrivals hall appear to have any catering areas apart from one narrow bank for beverage dispensing. Conspicuous by their absence were curio and souvenir booths. Not even a ticket bank was to be seen. And only one lounge area. At the wide exit, the doors sighed aside for Killashandra and Thyrol, who quickly walked down the wide shallow steps to a broad, intricately patterned apron of flat stones. Beyond was the roadway where the crew had just finished stowing the three foam crates in a large ground effect machine.
Suddenly an arc of light flashed on behind Killashandra and a muted alarm sounded. Guards materialized from inconspicuous booths on both sides of the main entrance and approached the three Optherians of the reception committee who were walking behind Killashandra and Thyrol.
“Please do not be disconcerted, Guildmember Ree.” Thyrol waved to the guards and they retreated back into their stations. The arc of light disappeared.
“What was that all about?”
“Merely a security precaution.”
“For my leaving the shuttle port?”
Thyrol cleared his throat. “Actually, for Optherians leaving the shuttle port.”
“Leaving?”
“This is our vehicle, Guildmember,” Thyrol said, smoothly urging her across the flagstone plaza. She allowed herself to be diverted because it was obvious that, whoever left the Shuttle Port was first obliged to enter: the alarm would work in both directions. But how could the device distinguish Optherians from other humans? No mutation had been mentioned in her perusal of the Encyclopedia Galactica entry for the planet: most ingenious for a warning device to differentiate between residents and nonresidents. But surely it got a bit noisy and confusing when Optherians were escorting tourists to the shuttle port. Or was that the reason for this broad flagstone area? She would have to check on FSP regulations about security measures restricting citizens of their planets.
As her vehicle glided forward, the first of the shuttle passengers began to emerge. On cue, fat accommodation buses filed out of the parking area to the flagstone curb. Craning her neck slightly, Killashandra took due note of the fact that the security system did not respond to the foreigners’ exits.
Already the vehicle was climbing out of the valley which contained the shuttle port and the clutter of maintenance buildings. The place looked bleakly ordered and preternaturally neat in comparison to what Killashandra recalled of Fuerte’s busy space port. Perhaps when the tourist season started . . . Even the clumps of trees and bushes which softened the harder lines of the buildings had a regulated look. Killashandra wondered how often the plantings had to be replaced. Shuttle emanations had a disastrous effect on most vegetation.
“Are you comfortable, Guildmember?” Mirbethan asked from her seat behind Killashandra.
“Of necessity the shuttle port was placed close to the City,” Pirinio took up the conversation, “but is screened by these hills which also absorb much of the noise and bustle.”
Noise and bustle, his tone of voice told Killashandra, were the unpleasant concomitants of space travel. “How wise of you,” Killashandra replied.
“Optherian’s founding fathers planned for every contingency,” Thyrol said smugly. “No effort has been spared to conserve our planet’s natural beauty.”
The vehicle had reached the top of the gap and Killashandra had an unimpeded view of the broader valley below them, in which nestled the felicitous arrangement of pastel colored buildings, domes, and round towers that comprised Optheria’s capital settlement, known as the City. From that height, the impressive view drew a surprised exclamation from Killashandra.
“It is breathtaking!” Thyrol chose to interpret her response his way.
Beautiful was a fair adjective, Killashandra thought, but breathtaking, no! Even at that distance something was too prim and proper about the City for her taste.
“None of the indigenous trees and bushes were removed, you see,” Thyrol explained, gesturing with his whole hand rather than a single finger, “when the City was constructed, so that the natural, unspoiled landscape could be retained.”
“And the river and that lake? Are they natural features?”
“But of course. Nature is not distorted on Optheria.”
“Which is as it should be,” Polabod added. “The entire valley is as it was when Man first landed on Optheria.”
“The City Architect planned all the buildings and dwellings in the unoccupied spaces,” Mirbethan said proudly .