Zyan was woken the next day by a soft chiming from the room. Ever a light sleeper, he was awake and alert after a single soft note. He wondered if he'd ever lose the habit of waking up ready for anything from an artillery strike to a bellowing sergeant, and then wondered if he wanted to.

"Yeah?" Zyan growled at the room. He might usually be alert when woken, but that didn't always equate to graciousness.

"Full Disclosure will take place in one hour in Briefing Room One. Candidates are requested to gather in the Lounge in fifty-five minutes." He was informed.

"OK." Zyan said gruffly, and seriously considered appending 'Wake me up in fifty four minutes then' to the end of it. He chose the path of caution, however, and swung his legs out of bed (or his walking units out of the sleeping unit, as the Guild man from the previous night would no doubt put it). Would this Full Disclosure be given by another soullessly efficient Guild drone? He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to contemplate a future doing a reasonably convincing impression of a robot.

A few minutes later, he was washed and dressed - he'd never cared overmuch for extended ablutions in the morning or evening, even before his stint as a soldier. As was his wont when not compelled to wear a uniform of some description, Zyan chose black, or dark colours. Today he opted for a black coverall over a grey, bodyhugging shirt, and tied the sleeves of the coverall around his waist. They were utilitarian clothes and suited him well. He paused for a few more minutes to have a bowl of cereal, and then decided to head out to the Lounge, to see if there were any others ready in similarly good time.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Janso had already made his way out to the Lounge. He sat in his customary straight-backed posture, as if he expected, at any moment, that a senior officer might enter the room to the accompaniment of a bosun's pipe. Zyan was not normally given to whimsy, but for a moment he contemplated the possibility of somehow obtaining a bosun's pipe, or at least simulating the sound, just to see if Janso would leap to attention. Two of the women from the night before had also arrived before Zyan, including Tornaz's companion, the dark skinned girl. She'd been introduced to him as Pharisa, and, in her previous existence, she'd been a computer specialist. She was a direct, no nonsense sort, which Zyan could relate to, although her pairing with Molovsky indicated that there was a sense of humour in the mix, too. Both women offered polite greetings as Zyan sat down nearby - Janso didn't even look at him.

"Stay up late last night?" Pharisa asked. She had retired relatively early with Tornaz.

Zyan shook his head. "Hour or so after you left. Those tests wiped me out."

Janso made a soft sound. Despite being entirely non-verbal, he nevertheless managed to convey that this revelation surprised him not at all.

Again, Zyan stepped on his irritation. In the past, he would have demanded satisfaction, or at least cast a threatening glance toward the offending party. The new, FSP-friendly Zyan, he reminded himself, was above such behaviour.

"You can say that again. I thought I'd prepared myself thoroughly for the pain threshold test - I'd had one before, it was a work thing - but I damn near bit my tongue in two!" Pharisa laughed.

Zyan cracked a sympathetic smile. "I felt like trashing the machine." He admitted truthfully.

They continued to chat for the next few minutes, while more of the candidates filtered into the room, including a tousle-haired Tornaz.

"You gotta wonder," Tornaz said, yawning, "exactly what it is about the Guild and singing crystal that makes the FSP go through all this rigmarole."

"Didn't you read all the available information, Molovsky?" Janso asked levelly, as if addressing a junior officer. Tornaz glowered at him, and despite the fact that he knew it was petty, Zyan took some satisfaction that he wasn't the only one who was irritated by the blond spacer's manner.

"'Course I did." Tornaz shrugged. "It was as good a job of low-blow as I've ever seen."

There was a brief pause.

"Okay." One of the girls - Rhanui, Zyan thought he remembered her name - spoke up. "I'll bite. What's low-blow? And so help me, Tornaz, this better not be the sort of joke I suspect it is."

Tornaz grinned. "Lots of words - but little of worth." He said. "I did lots of homework, Marin. You want to know what I found out?"

Pharisa groaned, but everyone else (all thirteen aspirants were now present) seemed keen to allow Tornaz to continue.

"Next to nothing. The PR machine is on, but nobody's home. You have to look in the news archives to find anything. Are you all aware that FSP policy toward the Heptite Guild has changed radically over the last five years?"

He received a mixed response of shaking heads and tentative nods. Zyan remembered some of Marcus' comments.

"Hmmm... Very disappointing. You lot are a pretty lame bunch of students, y'know." Tornaz chided them.

"Get on with it, Tor." Pharisa gave him a nudge with a sharp elbow, provoking a hurt look from her target, and some quiet laughter from the group.

Tornaz shrugged and plonked down next to Pharisa, shedding his lectorial manner. "Okay so, up 'til maybe five years back, the FSP treated the Guild like it was one step up from criminal. No recruiting - at all - restrictions up to here, you name it, the FSP had a reg forbidding it to the Guild. 'Course, they were also shippin' crystal outta here like it was goin' outta fashion, too, but besides the cash they didn't seem too grateful, you follow?"

"I am aware," Janso said levelly, "of recent political history regarding this Guild and it's relationship with the Federated Sentient Planets."

Zyan glowered at him. This guy could annoy him from the next room.

"Then, all of a sudden, bada bing,-"

"Bada who?" Pharisa asked, to general amusement.

"Hey, I do the jokes, Phar." Tornaz said, affecting disgruntlement. "Five years ago we start to see a few changes. Suddenly, the Guild can recruit specialists. Applicants do not necessarily have to become crystal singers - if you wanna come here to be a doctor or a geologist, by all means bring your scalpel or your seismograph with you. This class is the exception, not the rule, you know."

"No." Zyan said. "Actually I didn't."

"Well, you've been busy these past few years, I hear." Tornaz quipped.

Such a remark would not normally raise a smile from Zyan, but in the past few minutes he'd started to formulate a plan whereby he would appear to be gregarious and sociable, thus shifting Janso into the 'threatening loner' position which he normally occupied himself. He decided to run with it.

"It's been a little on the hectic side, yes." Zyan replied.

This got a laugh from the group, which gratified Zyan a little. One could almost see them thinking, 'well, if he can make a lighthearted quip about it, it can't have been that bad.'. The corollary of which was, of course, that Zyan himself couldn't be that bad.

Janso played into his hands. "I would not joke about such things." He said. "The dead would not make such comments."

The stifling effect was immediate. People looked down and away from Janso.

"Where'd you get that from, the latest edition of '1001 Things Guaranteed To Stop A Conversation'?" Molovsky asked him, possibly in an attempt to lighten the suddenly sombre mood.

"Since none of you have seen the aftereffects of terrorism save from the news feeds, you do not realise that Jarvis is making light of a real war, with real civilian casualties." Janso said, and turned to Zyan. "You ought to be in rehab."

Zyan stared at him coldly for a moment. FSP Zyan was gone, at least for now. The old Zyan surfaced, and stood. Janso stood too, the two men facing off from a yard apart.

"Two points." He said. "Point one: I am not, nor have I ever been, a 'terrorist'. The rebellion did not set out to spread terror - it set out to bring down a regime based on terror. Know what? It worked."

"Believe what you wish." Janso replied. "And your second point?"

Zyan could actually feel the desire to sink his fist into Janso's face as a physical sensation. It must have shown, because Aviczue stood and interposed herself between the two men.

"Now now, boys. There's times and places for fighting." She said, laying a restraining hand each on Zyan's and Janso's chests.

"Fighting?" Janso snorted.

Aviczue was right on the money. Point two was supposed to be Zyan lamping Janso in the face, but some caution and social sense started to return. Zyan gave a soft snort, then turned to the girl with a smile. "Yeah, right. Thanks, Aviczue."

The situation appeared to have been defused, and not a moment too early, since as Zyan was easing himself into his seat, the far door swished open and the second crystal singer Zyan had ever seen walked in.

That the woman's left arm was in a sling was probably the first thing everyone noticed, but Zyan once again noted the otherness of the crystal singer. She was tall, with jet black hair cut very short, and deeply tanned. She was sharp-featured, and despite her injury moved with confidence and grace.

"Good morning." She announced in a warm contralto, with a pleasant smile. "I'm Jolinda. As a crystal singer, I'm here to give you the Full Disclosure briefing. First on the agenda is this."

Jolinda unwrapped the bandages she wore, exposing what must have been a truly nasty wound when she sustained it. The crystal singer's upper and lower arm had been completely mangled. What skin hadn't been slashed open had been bruised and abraded. Some of the group made soft shocked noises, others winced. Only Zyan and Janso - who had both seen worse in their careers - affected no surprise.

"Should you maybe be in hospital or something?" Tornaz asked her.

"I was." Jolinda replied. "Two days ago I was involved in a serious landslide in an airsled. My arm was caught between the sled and the ground."

"Two days." One of the women repeated in disbelief.

"Two days." Jolinda confirmed, binding the wound up again. "I'll show you this again later, at which point you will believe that I'm not lying."

Following this eye-opening start, Zyan was prepared for the rest of Full Disclosure to be fairly extreme, but he was in no way expecting what followed. If it had to be put into an executive summary, it would go something like this:

What we're about to tell you is so shocking you literally have to agree to have your memory of it wiped if you decide to back out of it. Nobody? Okay then. Ballybran will basically try to kill you in almost every way a planet can, but almost all of the ways apart from the weather are pretty much redundant, because mach storms have got the whole killing-inhabitants thing covered and then some. Here's a few preserved bodies in tanks, because we really mean it when we say Ballybran is dangerous and nothing drives that home quite like a dead body in a tank. Also the actual stuff you're about to commit to cutting out of the ground and spending most of your working life in very close proximity to is also pretty deadly if handled wrong, and can also steal your memories and basically rewire your brain if given half a chance.

If this has somehow not persuaded you that a career in crystal singing is a Really Bad Idea, you may want to hear the upsides. Well, first off, all life on the planet – which will include you, after ten days on the surface – exists in symbiosis with the Ballybran spore. This little critter can make you stronger, faster, more perceptive and increase your lifespan by centuries; or it can – big surprise! – kill you stone dead after a painful and intense bout of suffering. If it doesn't do either of those things it can leave you disabled, but probably not, because we've learned a thing or two about who makes a good host over the past few centuries and we're pretty sure you're it. Oh – no kids. The spore is all about individual survival, but it doesn't get on too well with the human reproductive system.

Also: cash. Quite a lot of it, if you're lucky enough to find black crystal and somehow evade a horrible death long enough to cut it, pack it and bring it back to the guild HQ. If you've seen singers living it up somewhere on holiday, though, and thought it could be you? Probably not very often.

Oh, and if you do get to leave the planet again at any point, don't stay away too long unless you want to suffer – big surprise again! - a horrible and painful death.

Jolinda took quite a while getting through this – she was very well spoken, and quite good at imparting information.

"I said I'd show you this again." She said, once more unwrapping the bandages. Her wound was noticeably improved. It still looked serious, but if it continued to heal at that rate it wasn't going to be for much longer.

There were expressions of awe from everyone gathered.

"You have now been duly informed of the dangers of living on Ballybran. If you have - very understandably - been dissuaded by what I have told you, then please remain here. Someone will be in soon, who will deal with erasure and the legal formalities." Jolinda told them. "If on the other hand you wish to become a Heptite Guildmember, then follow me."

And with that, she left through the same door she had entered. It swished shut behind her.

Zyan considered what he'd just seen and heard. To say that it wasn't what he'd been expecting would probably be a serious contender for Understatement of the Millenium.

He wasn't overly bothered by the risk of death. Zyan had faced, well, livelier threats to his existence - and of the kind where one didn't get a helpful warning beforehand. Becoming disabled, though, be it mental or physical - that was something to consider seriously. Zyan had always been a fit and active person, with good reflexes, acute senses and a quick mind. How would he deal with losing one or more of these blessings? Could he deal with it? His mind started to grind over gloomy possibilities, and he looked over the rest of the group.

Some of the aspirants who had formed relationships of one kind or another were discussing their decision together, but there was no group discussion taking place. As it happened, though, Janso made his decision for him. Zyan saw the blond spacer look in his direction, then lean forward, preparing to stand. There was no way in hell that Zyan was going to look as if he'd been swayed by Janso's decision, so he stood up first, practically leaping to his feet with a sudden motion that caused everyone to look at him expectantly.

"What?" Zyan asked of the room at large, somewhat irritably.

"Are you-?" Tornaz asked him.

"Um, yeah." Zyan said. "Course I am. See y'all later. Or, y'know, not." He directed this last at Janso, then walked through the door Jolinda had indicated. On the way there, he decided that he would've probably made this decision anyway, and decided not to think about it any more. There was a time for introspection, and a time for decisiveness, and ninety-nine percent of the time, the latter was the ticket.

Beyond the door was the familiar sight of a standard-issue FSP flunky (Zyan was still not inclined to be charitable toward FSP representatives of any stripe). The woman indicated that he should take a seat opposite her at her desk, then subjected him to a barrage of questions regarding the disclosure. Zyan, who was becoming increasingly more irritated as the interview progressed, gave curt and minimal replies.

"Do you swear, aver and affirm that-"

"Yes, for God's sake." Zyan snapped. "Can we get on with this?"

"I have to go through this, citizen." The woman said, unperturbed, then repeated the legalistic statement. Zyan agreed in a bored tone, swished his wrist unit across the scanner, and, as another door opened, walked through it without waiting to be asked. The woman's voice, wishing him a successful career, tailed off. Zyan caught her saying 'well, really' to herself in an offended tone before the door closed behind him. He didn't feel particularly happy with himself - maybe the Crystal Singer attitude was even more infectious than the spore.

Jolinda was waiting in the room he entered, leaning against the far wall. Zyan arranged a polite smile and nodded at her, remembering that this was a member of the Guild he wished to join, and that he'd better play nice.

"Thought you might be the first." She said. "I wanted to thank you."

Zyan was surprised. "Why?"

Jolinda cracked a grin. "For scaring the life out of that pompous ass Soros Vander. Few people had it coming more."

If she knows that, Zyan thought, then presumably she knows other things about me. "Glad to be of help, CS Jolinda. I also do kid's parties and weddings."

His quip earned him a continuance of the grin. "I was surprised to see your name on the applicant's list." Jolinda told him. "All things considered."

"Maybe I just figured that I'd try and replace a bit of what I smashed." Zyan replied.

"Maybe so. Or maybe you did your homework, ran some numbers, figured out this'd be a good way to score the credit you'd need for a return engagement." It was a question, and it hung there.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about it, but I'm through with Djiel." Zyan arranged an unconcerned shrug. He wasn't lying, but he needed Jolinda to get that he wasn't. "Also, there's the whole maybe-never-being-able-to-leave-here-again thing you just ran through, which would kinda ruin the chances of that plan. At any rate, I'm all about a nice peaceful life, now."

"You were actually listening just now, weren't you?" Jolinda asked him quizzically.

"For a given value of 'peaceful', of course. I'm not after boring - I could just do with avoiding any actual wars for the rest of my life." Zyan amended his statement.

Further conversation was precluded by the arrival of Janso. Jolinda indicated the seats in the room. "It may take a while to get everyone processed - I was told they were short staffed, today."

Jolinda did affect a pleased air when the last candidate entered and the entire group was reassembled. "That's everyone, then. Thanks - you guys just earned me 50 creds."

"You receive a commission for this, Guildmember?" Janso asked. "That was not mentioned in the information we were given."

If Jolinda was irritated at the repressive tone, she didn't show it. "Nah - I had a bet going with another singer. To be honest, it's more about the expression on his face than the credit." She grinned. "If you'll please follow me, there's a shuttle waiting to take us to the surface. Welcome to the Heptite Guild, ladies and gentlemen. You don't have to be mad to work here, but it can be a useful occupational skill."

Jolinda led them aboard the shuttle and directed them to sit at the back. The lock was about to be sealed when they were halted by a shout.

"What's the hold up, Celee?" Zyan heard Jolinda ask the pilot.

"My current favourite passenger." The pilot replied sourly, but then his voice took on an impish air. "Still thinks she's an intergalactic screen star and, for some reason I cannot fathom, she gets away with it. I've been flying Guild shuttles for literal, actual centuries but she is by far the biggest pain in the-"

The pilot was interrupted by a female voice. "Jolinda! Darling! I am so sorry for the hold up. Could you be an absolute dear and have one of the little fishes from your catch carry these bags for me? They are fiendishly heavy."

The owner of the voice was a tall, black haired woman possessed of almost goddess-like beauty who strode onto the shuttle as if she owned it.

"Shecherzia, hi." Jolinda replied neutrally. "Back from Baliol, I see. The 'little fishes' are all grown ups, by the way, you can ask them for help yourself."

Zyan was surprised when the girl in the seat next to him gave vent to a gasp. "Oh my God, that's Shecherzia Alar!"

"Shechy who?" Zyan asked.

"Shecherzia Alar!" The girl told him. "The Shecherzia Alar!" This, apparently, was all that was needed in terms of clarification.

Now that he looked, though, Zyan did think she seemed vaguely familiar, and not from Djiel. Then he recalled: she'd starred in a vidfilm he'd watched in the crew messroom on the Gethsemane, and it hadn't been a recent one. It had also been awful.

"Oh, yeah." He replied. "Actress. Right."

"She retired from vids like twenty years ago! She doesn't look a day older!" The girl said.

"Well, she wouldn't, if she's a crystal singer." Zyan told her.

This exchange did not escape the woman herself, who bestowed a beaming smile upon the awestruck girl. "It's always such a pleasure when one is recognised by fans. Could you two be very, very lovely and bring a couple of tiny bits of luggage aboard for me?"

Zyan privately thought she could carry her own bags, but since the girl immediately sprang to her feet and he had the aisle seat, he had little choice except to stand to let her out. Once up, he realised it would look somewhat churlish to leave her to do everything, so he followed her to the hatch.

The 'couple of tiny bits of luggage' turned out to be two dozen matching trunks and suitcases, none of which came equipped with anti-grav. A tanned man in colourful clothing was already struggling with one of them – her boyfriend?

"Oh do come on, Danlo, it's not that heavy!" The ex-actress called from the shuttle.

"D'you wanna hand with that, mate?" Zyan asked. The man merely shot him a disgusted glance and made no reply. Zyan shrugged and picked up a case.

He was stopped in the hatchway by the woman herself. "I can't shake off the feeling that I've seen you before, somewhere." She observed, with a puzzled smile.

Despite himself, Zyan couldn't help but be affected by her beauty and that smile. She certainly had charisma: even without the odd glamour of the crystal singer, he suspected she would have. Then, in the process of cueing up an answer as to where she probably knew his face from, he remembered that he was not a gushing teenage fanboy but a very recently ex-revolutionary who was being blocked from carrying a very heavy thing aboard a shuttle by the very person who had requested help with said heavy thing and wasn't showing any inclination to get her own hands dirty with lifting.

"I doubt you have, CS Alar." He said. "I can't shake off the feeling that item number three of your extensive luggage collection is currently stress-testing my back and shoulders towards a painful sprain, you wouldn't mind letting me actually bring it aboard and put it down, would you?"

Jolinda failed to hide a snort of laughter. Shecherzia's expression was – for a split second – as icy and cold as the space outside the shuttle, but then softened into a picture of contrition.

"Of course, how very selfish I am." She said. "And now I do recall how I know your face, the very last thing I want to do is stand in your way, Black Zyan." She moved aside and motioned him inside with a dramatic flourish. "Onward to victory, young hero!"

Zyan gritted his teeth - a few people laughed. On his way out to get another case, the colourfully dressed man shot him another dirty look. Either he was ridiculously jealous of her attention or he thought Zyan had been rude to her, which he supposed he had been, but she was hardly a picture of reserved decorum herself.

The rest of the luggage was duly hauled aboard – a couple of the other recruits took pity on their beleaguered comrades and also pitched in to help. Shecherzia was effusive and completely insincere in her thanks to everyone except her partner, who she merely berated to be careful as there were 'valuable breakables in that case you're heaving around like an Anvarian pseudogorilla'.

Given the very cool expression she'd turned on Zyan, he was very surprised when Shecherzia looked at him with a smile and patted the seat next to her own.

"Would you care to join me for the flight?" She asked. Her boyfriend looked darkly livid at this.

Nope, Zyan thought. "I already have a seat back there, thanks."

Shecherzia patted the seat again. "I insist." She insisted. "It's not every day one meets a genuine intergalactic celebrity."

"I thought you'd retired."

"I was talking about you, Mr. Jarvis. My days of fame are behind me – I have, like you, chosen instead a simple life of toiling upon the ranges of Ballybran. I do have a few contacts in the old business, though – this may be to your advantage."

Jolinda rolled her eyes. The pilot spoke up: "Can everyone please sit down so I can get this bucket underway?"

"There, you see, it's official now." Shecherzia said. "Sit! Sit sit sit!"

Zyan sighed and sat. The shuttle clunked and whirred and parted company with the lock.

"There, much better. Now, we seem to have got completely off on the wrong foot, or is it off on completely the wrong foot? I'm such a scatterbrain sometimes." Another charming laugh. "Let's start again. Hello, I'm Shecherzia Alar, pleased to meet you."

"Zyan." Zyan said curtly, now immune to the charm.

"Well, Zyan, this is always a short trip, so I'll be brief. During my recent travels I happened to see a couple of vidfilms based on your very daring and laudable exploits in the cause of freedom or independence or whatever it was this time. Stirring stuff, anyway." Shecherzia told him.

"And?" Zyan said.

"Quite the stoic one, aren't we? The whole man-of-few-words thing is starting to pall a bit, to be frank-" she shot a narrow-eyed look at her partner as she said this, "-but never mind, that's hardly your fault." Shecherzia then leaned conspiratorially close and dropped to a purring murmur. "Have you heard of the term 'likeness rights', Mr. Jarvis?"

"No." Zyan said.

"Well, do look it up for yourself, but in a nutshell if someone makes a vidfilm about someone, then that someone is usually approached with some credit, or promise thereof, in recompense for being the subject. I am willing to bet that dear old Carazian somehow neglected to have a word with you about this."

"Who?"

"Carazian Theremino, the director. Such a dear man, and such a rascal when it comes to crossing the Is and dotting the Ts in vidfilm contracts, one of which you were not asked to sign. Tell me I'm wrong and I'll shut up."

"You're wrong."

"You're lying."

"You didn't shut up."

"I never do, dear, until I'm good and ready." She patted him on the knee. "Now, those two films did rather well. I hear there's talk of nominations for the Galactics for the first one – if only it could be spun out into a trilogy: people love trilogies."

"Final approach, ladies and gentlemen." The pilot said.

"Better make your final approach, too." Zyan told Shecherzia.

Shecherzia giggled. "Oh I like you, Zyan Jarvis. Very well. I have some contacts in the industry, still, one of whom is a very talented litigator. A veritable attack dog in court. Now, I dare say that in return for a modest percentage of the really very impressive settlement my attack dog could rend from Carazian's unresisting flesh in court to compensate you for being so ill-used in the article of likeness rights, I could make sure he takes your case. Lesser lawyers may well fail, but my man - my very difficult to retain man – has a far greater chance of success. The first few years as a singer can be very challenging financially: a nice fat stash of credit to help see you through them could be a great comfort."

Modest percentage my rear end, Zyan thought, but she was a guildmember and everyone was looking, so he summoned up a polite reply. "Thank you for the kind offer, but that's a part of my life I want to put completely behind me. I don't want to get involved in any lawsuits – it might bring back bad memories." Zyan replied.

"Oh, you need not be concerned with that. I'll handle all the details." Shecherzia said.

The shuttle thunked down onto solid earth, and the hatch started to cycle open. Fresh air blew in, scented of dust and shuttle exhaust.

"Really, no thank you. Nice of you, but no." Zyan said. Take the hint, he thought.

"Care to suggest a way I might persuade you?" She asked quietly. She didn't flutter her eyelashes – she didn't have to. No shortage of self confidence, have you? Zyan thought.

"You're seriously going with that approach?"

"Find out if I'm serious, then – you might even have fun. Gasp!" Shecherzia unleashed a dazzling smile to accompany her intimation.

"Wow. Maybe I wasn't clear. No deal, CS Alar." He clarified quietly.

Shecherzia's lips set in a firm line, and for a moment she looked furious, then recovered.

"Well, if you do change your mind once the guild fees start to mount up, do drop me a line. The longer one leaves these matters, though, the harder it becomes to-"

"I said no." Zyan cut her off, this time louder.

The furious look was back. This time it didn't go away. "As you wish, guildmember. Now move: you're blocking my exit."

Zyan undid his restraints and stood. "Onward to victory, middle-aged heroine." He said, with a much less ornate version of her flourish. It was a bit shitty, he told himself, but a) she looked about twenty-five and would for centuries, if Full Disclosure was to be believed and b) she was a proper cow.

Shecherzia shot him a withering look. "Welcome to Ballybran, Jarvis." She said, as she stood. "Breathe deep, little fish." She filled her lungs then exhaled. "Only a very, very tiny percentage of the catch end up permanently impaired, these days. I'm sure there isn't the slightest chance it'll happen to you."

"CS Alar!" Jolinda protested.

"Pah! He's all grown up, Jolinda, you said so yourself." Shecherzia told her. And with that, she left, apparently not giving a single solitary damn about her luggage. Her partner treated Zyan to one more hostile look – not a patch on Shecherzia's – and followed her.

"Well you made an impression." Tornaz commented from behind Zyan.

"Sorry." Jolinda said. "She's, um-"

"She's amazing!" The awestruck girl finished the sentence for her, then, seeing Zyan's expression, looked slightly shamefaced. "Sorry – how often do you meet an intergalactic star, though? Really. I know she was being kind of a cow but tell me that wasn't cool as anything."

Zyan didn't reply.

"If you'd care to exit the shuttle?" Jolinda hinted.

The hatch opened not onto a boarding tube but the plascrete of a landing pad, scorched with burns from thrusters. Fresh air was blowing about in abundance - their exposure to the spore had begun. Normally not given to flights of fancy, Zyan nevertheless imagined the microscopic lifeforms entering his lungs, penetrating the alveoli, and beginning their ten-day redesign of his DNA, reworking what nature had already wrought. He smiled to himself - he might be no mutant, but there was precious little 'natural' about his genes. On the assumption that since he'd made the decision, an accepting attitude couldn't hurt (and he wasn't about to act hesitant after Shecherzia's parting shot), he breathed in deeply. Come on guys, I got a great spot picked out for you. Not much of a view, but the location's great. Make yourselves at home.

Jolinda took her leave, climbing into a skimmer that swept over to meet her. Recruits were evidently expected to proceed on foot. They were entreated to make their way to 'Entrance B5', and from there, follow the dark grey strip to the recruit's quarters. Zyan shouldered his bag and started walking.

The dark grey strip deposited the by now somewhat bewildered recruits in a lounge area, which was ringed with numbered doors: individual guest rooms, Zyan guessed. A man in a dark suit was waiting for them. He indicated that they should be seated, and when the last recruit had done so he cleared his throat.

"Welcome to the Heptite Guild's Joslin Plateau Headquarters – usually just called the Guild cube. These will be your accomodations until you have achieved transition. From now on, you will be designated as Class 1999." The man's voice was a deep baritone, and was pitched with a reassuring tone. He had blond hair, blue eyes, and looked to be in his mid forties.

"Aw," Tornaz chimed in, "we missed being 2000." Pharisa elbowed him into silence.

"My name is Abry, and I will be your instructor. Your training and orientation will begin tomorrow. For the rest of today, I advise you to get settled in and relax - because I assure you, for the next ten days, you will be learning and working extremely hard. Since this class is exceptional in that all of you are here with aspirations to be Crystal Singers, we will be skipping some of the - by now - usual evaluations of your other skills. I can't promise it will be easy, but I can promise you that it will be interesting."

The man then enjoined them to get something to drink, and food if they were hungry. Once all the recruits were so served, he went on to lecture, starting with the layout of the Guild cube and fielding the occasional question. Abry's classroom manner was of a markedly informal and seemingly rambling nature, but evidently he knew a little something about how to impart data to people, as Zyan found himself remembering the information as well as any briefing he'd ever attended.

Abry finished by informing them that tomorrow they would begin learning about Ballybran's weather and the history of the planet, and asking if there were any questions. There were not, and the man took his leave.

Everyone, with the exception of Janso, then headed over towards the catering panels to investigate further food and drink options. Zyan started to follow them, but hesitated. He didn't look forward to ten days of arguments with Janso – if it carried on, the rest of the group would probably avoid both of them as much as they could. He walked up to the man, who was still seated, as if awaiting permission from his senior officer to stand up.

"Janso." Zyan said.

Janso eyed him with disapproval. Zyan fought down the urge to tell the man exactly what he could do with his disapprobation.

"Have you come to finish what you nearly started, Jarvis?" Janso said. Zyan was unsurprised that Janso had sensed the imminent violence earlier.

"Manner of speaking, yeah. Listen, it's pretty obvious we're never going to be bosom buddies. Fine: but we got ten days at least with no choice but to be in the same unit. How's about we ignore each other as much as poss, and keep any necessary interactions to a polite but minimal-as-possible minimum, so we don't end up annoying the hell out of everyone else?" Zyan asked.

Janso considered it. "That is acceptable." He answered.

Zyan nodded, and walked away to join the others. In the convivial conversation that developed over the next two hours, Zyan stayed to one side and Janso the other.