Thyrol drew back, affronted by the suggestion and without further protest retired from the loft.
“Now,” Killashandra began, not even watching the man leave, “the first thing we must do is clear the shards. Stick to the larger pieces, Lars Dahl. My body deals with cuts more easily than yours. Hang up that lid. We’ll put the pieces on that before transferring them to the bin. Crystal has a disastrous habit of spraying shards when it bounces . . . Shouldn’t want unnecessary accidents to mar this procedure.”
“Why’d you want the jammer on in here? Guild secrets?” Lars’s voice was muffled by the mask.
“I just want them to understand that monitors won’t work around me. I was brought up on a planet that respects privacy and I’m not allowing Optherians to violate that right. Not for all the sensory organs on this narking world. Besides, how else can we search for the access? It would look far odder if suddenly their scanners don’t work, than if they haven’t worked from the start. Now, let’s do what we came for.”
It was slow work, especially once Lars had cleared the larger pieces. The extractor could be used only in short bursts; continued suction expelled tiny splinters right through the bag. For that reason, the bag had to be emptied and brushed out after each burst.
“It’d be easier with two of these, wouldn’t it?” When Killashandra nodded, Lars strode to the door panel, slid it open, and issued the request. Killashandra heard a murmured reply. “Now, I said! We don’t have time to wait for the request to go through Security. By the First Fathers! Does everything have to be authorized by Ampris. Move it! Now!”
Killashandra grinned at him. Lars’s return grin was pure satisfaction.
“If you knew how often I’ve wanted to bark at a Security man – ”
“I can’t honestly imagine you making meek – ”
“You’d be surprised at what I’m willing to do for a good reason.” He gave her a singularly wicked look.
A case of the extractors was delivered in half an hour by an officer whom Lars later told Killashandra was Blaz’s second in command, but not a bad fellow for all of that. Castair had been known to look the other way during student romps which Blaz never would have permitted.
“Guildmember,” Castair began, as Lars took the case from him, “there’s some problem with the monitoring system in here.”
“There is?” Killashandra straightened up from the console, glancing about her.
Castair indicated the corner nodules.
“Well, I don’t want someone distracting me while I’m doing this. Your repairs can wait. We certainly are not damaging anything!”
“No, of course not, Guildmember.”
“Then leave it for now.” She waved him off, bending back to the tedious cleaning before he had left.
“Perfect pitch is not the only talent required to sing crystal.” Lars’s comment startled Killashandra as she finally stood erect, arching her back against tight muscles.
“Oh?”
His expression was a mixture of respect and something else. “A crystal singer has total concentration and an absence of normal human requirements – such as hunger!”
Killashandra twisted her wrist to look at the chrono and chuckled, leaning against the unit behind her. It was mid-afternoon and they had been working steadily since nine that morning.
“You should have given me a nudge.”
“Several,” Lars said dryly. “I only mention it now because you’re looking a bit white under your tan. Here.” He thrust a heatpak at her. “I do not have your dedication so I sent for food.”
“Without authorization?” Killashandra broke the seal on the soup, aware that she was very hungry indeed.
I took a hint from your manner and pretended they had no option but obedience.” He shook his head. “Are all crystal singers like you?”
“I’m pretty mild,” she said, sipping carefully at the now heated soup. Lars passed her a plate of small sandwiches and crackers. “I only act the maggot when circumstances require. Especially with this lot of idiots.” She lifted and rotated one shoulder to ease back muscles Lars came to her side, pushing her away from her perch, and began to massage her back. His fingers unerringly found the tension knot, and she murmured her gratitude. “I hate this part of working in crystal so I’d rather get it over and done with as fast as possible.”
“How crucial is the clean sweep?”
Killashandra sang a soft note and the crystal shards answered in a nerve-twitching dissonance.
Lars shook convulsively at the sound which, in spite of being soft, took time to die away. “Wow!”
“White crystal is active, picks up any sound. Leave so much as the minutest particle of crystal dust and it’ll jam the manual and produce all kinds of subharmonics in the logic translator. It’d really be easier to start with a brand new manual case but I doubt they’d have spare parts. Which reminds me – the ten brackets that I’ve cleared are all spoiled.” She picked one up, turning the clamping surface so that the scratches picked up the light. “Tighten one of these on a new crystal and you’d create uneven stresses through the long axis of the crystal, introducing spurious piezoelectric effects and probably a flaw in next to no time.”
Lars took the bracket from her, hefting it in his hand. “They’re no problem. Olver can do them.”
Instinctively Killashandra looked up at the monitors as Lars mentioned his contact. She dragged at the fabric of Lars’s sleeve and pointed to the surveillance buds, where traces of black had mysteriously appeared to make an aureole about each unit. “Now what did that?”
Killashandra chuckled and pointed to the white crystal. “A secret weapon for you when I leave. Sing white crystal to whatever room you’re in and blast the monitors.” She reached for one of the larger pieces Lars had cleared away and hefted it. “We’ll just save some of this for you. I wonder if Research and Development know about this application of white.”
Suddenly Lars had his arms about her, his face buried in her hair, his lips against her neck. She could feel the tension in him and caressed him with gentle hands.
“Oh, Sunny, must you leave?”
She gave him a twisted, rueful smile, gentling the frown from his face with tender fingers “Crystal calls me back, Lars Dahl. It’s not a summons I can ignore, and live!”
He kissed her hungrily and as she responded they both caught the slight sound, swiveling away from each other, as the door slid open.
“Ah, Elder Ampris,” Killashandra said, “your arrival is most opportune. Show him the bracket, Lars Dahl,” and when Ampris regarded this unusual offering with amazement, “run your fingers over the clamping edge . . . carefully . . . and feel how rough it is. We’re going to need some two hundred of these, for I’m not about to trust new crystal in old brackets. All I’ve removed so far have been scratched just like that one. Will you authorize the order – and designate it is urgent?”
Killashandra snapped her mask back over her face and picked up the brush. Then she swore.
“I could also use a handlight of some sort. Some of this wretched stuff is like powder.”
Elder Ampris peered in and she heard his intake of breath. She straightened, regarding him passively, seeing the stern accusation in his eyes.
“Let me demonstrate, Elder Ampris, the need for meticulous care.” She hummed, more loudly then before, and took great delight in its effect on the man. “Sorry about that.” She resumed work.
“I came to inquire, Guildmember, how soon the repairs would be completed.”
“Since the idiot who smashed the manual put his heart in the destruction, it’s going to take a lot more time than it did for me to remove one shattered crystal from the cruiser drive – if that’s the comparison you were using.” Killashandra sighed, and looked disconsolately at the crystal ruin. “It’s slow going because of the nature of crystal and because, as you perceived, every smidgeon has to be cleaned out. That’s all we’ve achieved today . . .”