Zyan radioed ahead as soon as he was in transmission range of the cube, declaring a medical emergency, so medics were on hand to whisk Marin out of the sled and away.
"Clear a path, please!" They shouted, as the sled was surrounded by their concerned friends as soon as it came to a stop, led by Aviczue.
"I told you it wasn't safe!" She shouted at Zyan.
"It wasn't that – we had some uninvited guests and there was a cutter accident." Zyan told her, sticking to his pre-prepared story. His strategy was simple: there was no gun.
"He'll be fine." One of the medics told Aviczue, and indeed Marin's wounds were already well on their way to being healed.
"I believe I will be. These are – were - deep cuts, but clean." Marin told her.
"I'm coming anyway." She said, in a voice which brooked no argument. "You – we're not done yet." She promised Zyan, and then rushed off after Marin.
"What happened?" Everyone else wanted to know.
"Claim jumpers." Zyan answered. "Korzac had his cutter out and he slashed Marin with it. Excuse me."
"What!"
But Zyan was already making a beeline across the hangar floor to the sorting area, where he could see Shecherzia, Vander and an awake and upright Korzac. Everyone, of course, followed him. The whole place was crowded with singers and sorters and hangar hands, so a crowd wouldn't be long in forming. Zyan wanted a crowd: he wanted public. A man with something to hide doesn't make a scene.
"Korzac!" Zyan snarled. "You nearly killed Janso, and you jumped our bloody claim!"
Yep, instant crowd.
"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Korzac snarled back.
"Is he going to recover?" Shecherzia asked.
That threw Zyan a bit – he didn't expect any of them to care.
"Yes." He answered. "Lucky for you."
"I am greatly relieved." Shecherzia said, and to be fair she did look very relieved. Then again, she was a good actress. "There has been a terrible misunderstanding and a terrible accident."
"Accident! Korzac was intent on murder." Zyan stated.
"You're raving." Korzac said.
Zyan had expected one of them to accuse him of using a gun by now. It was curious and slightly worrying that they hadn't.
"I think you're confusing raving with intense but fully justified anger." Zyan snapped. "You were claim jumping, and you were ready to eliminate the witnesses, too!"
"Lies! We were not!" Korzac retorted.
"This is what I mean by misunderstanding." Shecherzia said smoothly. "We did land at your claim, yes, but we were not claim jumping. We merely landed to ensure that a pair of novice singers, apparently caught out in a storm, were not in trouble – and there was a highly regrettable accident. Vander was there too, for the same reason, and saw it all. Isn't that right Soros?"
Vander – looking as much or even more terrified than he had at the claim, or back on Djiel, for that matter – nodded mutely.
"Very impressive." Zyan told her – realising, a little late, who his main adversary was going to be for the next few minutes. If he wanted to get away with this he was going to have to play to a crowd better than a famous vid actress. Great. "Have you taught him any other tricks?"
Then, things got suddenly harder. The Guildmaster turned up.
"So heartwarming to see you altruistically looking out for fellow singers in need, Shecherzia. This is a new direction for you." Dahl said as he turned up. The sarcasm was not subtle.
Shecherzia was not fazed, and chose that moment to play her trump card. "I know! Not a mistake I'll make twice, for - imagine our amazement - we were attacked! My partner had to defend himself - and then, would you believe it – he was shot! I should very much like to see the gun you used on my partner – you know the one, Vander tells me that you threatened him with it, too. I had thought they were illegal, but perhaps arming new singers is another new policy of which I am not aware, Guildmaster?"
All eyes – not least among them the Guildmaster's – turned to Zyan. He deployed his defence.
"Gun? Oh, you mean this gun?" He reached down to the toolbelt and pulled out his gun – an L-shaped power driver.
The atmosphere in the sorting area was such that everyone – with the exception of the Guildmaster and Shecherzia, who seemed made of sterner stuff - cringed back from the innocuous device.
"Here, I shall demonstrate it's terrifying destructive power." The power driver made a vwee-vwee noise as Zyan activated it and swung it around, again causing a few people to duck and Shecherzia to laugh. It was a charming, glittery sort of laugh that Zyan would have found infectious had he not already identified her as a stone cold ruthless cow.
"Thank you, CS Jarvis, I think you've made your point." The Guildmaster growled, evidently somewhat irritated: whether it was by Shecherzia's prevarications, Zyan's sarcasm or everyone else's risible reaction was anyone's guess.
"But I was shot!" Korzac snapped.
"You look remarkably well for a gunshot victim." Zyan said. "I must get the name of your doctor, he or she is a miracle worker."
"It was a stunner of some kind, as you well know!" Korzac growled.
"This is a screwdriver, Korzac. I was pretending – you were advancing on me with your cutter held up. You fell for it, panicked and banjaxed your cutter into the bargain. Maybe you got an electric shock, I don't know – or care, for that matter." Zyan shrugged.
"Guildmaster, we are willing – this time – to chalk this episode up to youthful exuberance. Jarvis' partner has not been badly hurt and Danlo doesn't appear to have taken any lasting harm from his fall. We shall ignore the matter of Danlo's lost sonic cutter in recognition of the fact that we handled the incident somewhat badly." Shecherzia said reasonably, as if writing off assault with a deadly weapon was something one did every day of the week and was completely unremarkable.
Part of Zyan wanted to let this go, but he knew it would look suspicious if he were to so easily accede when he should have been claiming the moral high ground.
"'Somewhat badly'?" Zyan scoffed. "Marin can only use one arm, you nearly killed him!"
The Guildmaster held up a hand. "One thing at a time." He turned to Vander. "Are CS Janso's injuries the result of an accident?" Dahl asked.
Vander nodded, jerkily.
It was at that point that Zyan noticed Alenda enter the sorting area. She started wending her way through the crowd towards the Guildmaster.
Zyan started to think 'oh shards', but quickly stepped on it. He made his face into an impassive mask and tried to blank his mind. He repeated 1, 2, 3, 4 over and over - a trick some fellow malcontent at the Djiel Conservatory had sworn was proof against giving anything away during a loyalty check. Zyan couldn't remember what had happened to him, now he thought on it, but he had to do something.
"Did CS Korzac threaten CS Jarvis with a cutter?" Dahl was asking.
"I don't- I don't think so." Vander said, looking at Shecherzia as he spoke.
"And CS Jarvis' gun - was it just a screwdriver?" Dahl asked.
Vander paused. "Probably. I couldn't see, it wasn't clear what was-"
"I need a definite answer here, CS Vander. Maybe a better question would be this: did CS Jarvis shoot CS Korzac with a directed energy weapon?" The Guildmaster asked.
"N-, no." Vander answered hesitantly. Alenda was looking intently at him. Zyan wondered why she found it necessary to do so, then realised this was a very bad time to have her at the forefront of his mind. 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, he started counting again.
"Thank you, Soros. Finally, is CS Alar's version of why you landed at the claim the truth? You came to help, not to cut?" The Guildmaster asked a final question.
Vander nodded. "Yes. We were checking they were okay, nothing more."
Zyan thought - quietly - that he could probably let this lie now. Hollin, though, had other ideas.
"If you were only there to help," he asked, "why did Korzac have his cutter out?"
You're a sharp customer, Hollin, Zyan thought, although right then he wished Hollin had more of his old reticence and less of his newfound confidence. If Alenda sensed Zyan's ambivalence about what he should have thought was a very good question, she said nothing.
Shecherzia came to his rescue. "You're new, so you won't know this, but some singers who are perhaps weaker willed than they should be often refuse to stop cutting, even in the midst of a storm. One way to stop them is to cross-cut against their cutter. Danlo was prepared against that possibility. We also had crates out: sometimes - shockingly - you have to physically defend yourself from the person you're trying to help and a crate makes a useful shield." She explained, not without a little sarcasm. "In any case we have cut no black crystal: the Guildmaster is welcome to search our sleds. Cutting or removing crystal is the offence: nothing in the rules and regs prevents landing on a claim."
The Guildmaster looked at Alenda and then Shecherzia. Alenda shook her head minutely.
The Guildmaster turned to Zyan. "CS Jarvis: is this what happened?"
Zyan tried to shield his thoughts with counting. Alenda shot a quizzical look at him.
"They didn't cut anything, no." Zyan admitted, and then, because although he was giving in for tactical reasons he didn't have to be gracious about it, added: "My bad, CS Alar. I can only apologise that I didn't realise you were trying to help when you landed right in front of our crystal face and broke out your cutters without trying the comunit first."
"I'll forgive you this time - it's not your fault you're ignorant." Shecherzia said sweetly.
"If you two want to take this further, then by all means accompany me right now and we'll convene a meeting of the Chiefs to discuss it officially – under oath." The Guildmaster said firmly.
"The Chiefs are busy people with a lot on their minds. Let us not trespass upon their time so churlishly." Shecherzia replied calmly.
"Oh you're good." Zyan told her. "Butter wouldn't melt, would it?"
"I despise butter." Shecherzia said airily. "Such a primitive substance: greasy and unpleasant." Then she literally fluttered her eyelashes at Zyan.
"Only if you spread it on too thick." Zyan replied flatly.
Shecherzia laughed. "Oh, we simply must become friends, you and I, Zyan. One so often finds that people from less advanced cultures bring a charming simplicity to the Guild quite at odds with the civilised attitudes we have grown so used to." She smiled.
She's enjoying this, Zyan thought.
"Yes, let us put the minor matter of opening someone's chest and arms up with a sonic cutter aside and go get a coffee or something." Zyan growled.
"I find it somewhat bitter." Shecherzia sniffed.
"Enough!" The Guildmaster cut in. "This matter is either dropped now, or it goes to the chiefs now. Shecherzia: one word answer – 'dropped' or 'chiefs', and then you're silent on the subject."
"Dropped." Shecherzia replied, with a sarcastic little curtsey.
"Zyan, same." Dahl stated.
"Dropped." Zyan replied, and exhaled hard.
"Then off you both go, and if either of you brings this up again, you better be ready for this to be 'dropped' straight into the laps of the aforementioned chiefs meeting. Have I been clear?"
"Yes, thank you Guildmaster." Shecherzia said. She blew a kiss at Zyan and walked away, followed by Korzac and Vander.
"I think I'm in love." Tornaz said dryly. Pharisa whacked him on the arm.
Alenda, Zyan noted, watched them leave with wide eyes. The minor detail of why she looked at them seemed unimportant right then. What had she sensed from them? What had she sensed from him?
She tapped Dahl on the shoulder and whispered something to him. Zyan couldn't make it out, even with symbiote-boosted hearing - but then again she had alternate means of conveying information privately and the whisper could just be for effect. Dahl also looked at the backs of the departing trio.
"Anything else you want to tell me?" The Guildmaster asked, turning back to Zyan. The question, coming on the heels of Alenda whispering in his ear, startled him.
"What? No, Guildmaster." He replied, absolutely truthfully.
The Guildmaster departed the scene soon afterwards, taking Alenda with him. She didn't say – or send – anything to Zyan before she left.
Marin was discharged about an hour later – his cuts had healed incredibly quickly, at least by the standards Zyan still had in his head as normal. By crystal singer standards, his swift recovery was probably unremarkable. His speedy discharge might have been down to the fact that Presnol was keen to have him out of the infirmary, though: all twelve of his partners were insisting on visiting him at the same time.
The common room was afire with gossip about the incident in the sorting area, so a meeting was hastily convened in Zyan's quarters. Marin and Zyan presented an account of what had happened, although of course past a certain point only Zyan knew what had happened – or so he thought.
Whether or not Marin's injuries had been a result of Zyan's improvised blasting charge, Aviczue clearly still held Zyan at least partly responsible.
"Did you have a gun, Zyan?" She demanded, arrowing straight to the question Zyan had hoped to avoid. Well, she had been a police officer.
"Yes, he did." Marin replied.
A moment of silence.
"And a good thing too." Marin finished. "I didn't lose consciousness as quickly as I told the medics. Korzac might have struck me by accident to begin with, but he was about to finish the job: there is no question about that. If Zyan hadn't shot him he would have killed me – and I strongly suspect he would have gone on to kill Zyan. CS Alar and CS Vander would have been witnesses to murder, at that point. He would have had to kill them, too. The storm would have erased any evidence."
Zyan sighed. "He's right. Here." He dug out the three component parts of the stunner from his pockets and held them up. "These assemble into a stunner – I've had it since Djiel. Yes, I used it on Korzac. Yes, he was about to kill Marin. Yes, I would do exactly the same thing if I had to make the decision again. I'm going to the Guildmaster to ask him to convene a Chief's Council. I've had enough of lying – I'm going to confess."
More silence, then: "I move that Korzac is a psycho who had it coming. We ditch that gun in the ranges somewhere and keep schtum about this. All those in favour?" Tornaz asked.
Everyone except Aviczue and Zyan raised their arms – even Hollin, who presumably had a good grasp on the illegality of the situation. Then Aviczue looked at Marin, and raised hers too.
"What the hell – nobody died and I'm not a policewoman any more." She said.
"Guys, stop." Zyan said. "This is serious – I'm not making all of you accessories to covering up an illegal shooting, and what's more, Korzac is a psycho and he needs to be arrested. I'm going to the Guildmaster, right now."
"He'll arrest you too, Zyan." Aviczue said. "I don't know how things work on Ballybran but on most FSP worlds - even if a court accepted that you'd acted solely in self-defence - you'd be looking at a custodial sentence for possession of an illegal energy weapon. It's also concealed, expertly so, with premeditation – which makes it worse."
"I know." Zyan said. "But it is what it is."
"Then I'm coming with you. You'll need representation." Hollin stated. "The Guild has failed in it's basic duty to protect it's members. It's hardly Zyan's fault that he had to resort to desperate measures to make up for this shortfall, and the illegality of non-lethal personal protection devices – which are perfectly legal on many worlds – was not adequately explained in Full Disclosure! We'll see how keen the Guildmaster is to imprison Zyan when he's facing a counter-suit for allowing a dangerous individual to perpetrate homicidally aggressive acts of violence in an attempt to steal crystal from a lawfully registered claim!"
There was a lot of support and agreement for this.
"Hollin, no." Zyan said. "Not that you don't sound as impressive as anything, but I'm not dragging anyone else into this. It was my gun and my decision. The consequences are mine too."
We know about the stunner, by the way, before you decide to very admirably go rushing off to Lars, Alenda's thoughts sounded in his head.
Oh, Zyan thought.
I think it might be a very good time for us to get that drink, now. I'm about to sound your entry chime. I'd take it as a kindness if you'd refrain from anything rash – there may be a way to resolve this situation without anyone being arrested. Quite apart from anything else, we have no police force. I'd have to ask CS Cahrera to volunteer and that might prove a tad awkward.
On cue, Zyan's door chime went off. He walked over and pressed the open control.
"CS Jarvis." Alenda said. "Would you-"
"Senior Counsel, it is fortuitous that you are here." Hollin said, striding over to the door. "You should be advised that I will be filing suit against the Heptite Guild to prevent this gross miscarriage of justice!"
Alenda smiled. "CS Langtry, I should not want to face you in court under any circumstances. Your reputation precedes you, and your work on the contracts for your partnership, which must have been done on a very tight schedule, was very impressive. However I am simply here in an unofficial capacity to ask Zyan out on a date – we've been putting it off for some time and I wanted to have a chance to talk - before work gets in the way."
Zyan got that hint, but Hollin was in full swing and wasn't going to be put off. "I'm very sorry, but it would be highly inappropriate for my client to have any contact with opposing counsel without-"
"Alright, tiger, back down there." Aviczue told Hollin. "Let's keep the legal option on standby – for an hour or so. Give Zyan and - Alenda, is it? - time for a drink and a chat."
Aviczue, it seemed, had got the hint and scented that a possible fix might be in. He wondered if she'd had any help arriving at this conclusion.
No, she figured that out on her own. Alenda communicated. It would be extremely rude to simply slide a thought into someone's head like that.
I note you didn't have any such issues where I was concerned, Zyan replied.
You seemed more willing to let me in, was her response to that.
All of this was extremely weird – and also extremely quick. Aviczue still hadn't finished speaking by the time Alenda and Zyan had completed their exchange.
"Excellent." Alenda said. "Meet me in the Eye of the Storm in fifteen minutes?" You need a shower.
"Brilliant. Yeah. See you in fifteen." Thanks for the tip.
Alenda smiled. "I hope to meet you all again, in better circumstances." She said to the rest of the group, and departed. The door closed behind her.
"Zyan, as your lawyer I strongly advise against this meeting." Hollin said.
"As your ex-copper, I strongly advise you go." Aviczue said. "I think you're going to be offered a deal of some kind. Sorry, Hollin."
"Be very careful about what you admit to." Hollin advised.
Zyan didn't think he should tell them that Alenda already knew everything she needed to thoroughly nail him to a wall, legally speaking. "I'll be very circumspect." He promised, instead.
"Something here stinks." Tornaz said.
"You're not wrong about that." Hollin agreed.
"Oh hang on, wait, it's us." Tornaz waved his hand in front of his nose. "We forgot to pack a shower when we went on our little camping trip. Zyan, as your friend, I strongly advise you to shower thoroughly before you go on a date or enter into any shady grey-legal pacts with mysterious otherworldly beautiful women."
"Beautiful, is she?" Pharisa asked him.
"It's not a limited resource, Phar, just because one woman is beautiful doesn't mean you're any less pretty." Tornaz said.
"Time out." Zyan said. "Pharisa, can you go elsewhere to give Tor the hard time you're about to give him over the 'she's beautiful but you're only pretty' mistake he just made?" Zyan asked.
"Oops." Tornaz said, looking pale.
"I believe so, yes." Pharisa said.
Zyan promised to fill everyone in on what happened, and then had a shower.
The Eye of the Storm turned out to be a relic of the Guild's more affluent days - a small restaurant kept clean by menial drones but otherwise deserted and seldom visited: the kitchens were stripped bare and the catering slots deactivated. It was situated on the upper levels of the cube: in theory, you should be able to look out of the armoured windows and behold the majesty of Ballybran's landscape with your own eyes. In reality, the plasglas had been abraded by years and years of storm: it was translucent but no longer transparent. It gave customers – of whom there were only two, Alenda and Zyan – the impression that they were encased in cloud.
"I like to come here." Alenda announced from one the tables – she was sat with her back to Zyan. "I didn't know it wasn't possible to see out of the windows until the Crystal Singer pointed it out to me. From my point of view-" she let the irony of her words sink in for a moment "-there really is no difference. Please, join me."
Zyan walked over and sat down. "Hi, Alenda."
Tornaz hadn't been wrong – she really was 'otherworldly', and definitely very beautiful.
"Thank you, I do my best." She said, smiling. "I'm by no means immune to compliments. I'm afraid there's only one choice of drink, but I'm told that in common with so many others here you like Yarran beer."
She pushed an opened bottle across the table, and raised one of her own.
Cheers, she sent.
"Thank you." Zyan clinked bottles. "I do wish this was just a social engagement."
Alenda looked momentarily sad. "So do I – but it doesn't have to be unpleasant."
"We'll see." Zyan told her. "How private is your deserted restaurant?"
"Very." She tapped a small device on the table next to the beer, which Zyan had taken for a bottle opener. "This is a device the Guildmaster invented many years ago, when I'm told he was not so very different to you. It deals with any monitoring devices very effectively."
1, 2, 3, 4 why would someone only one jump down from the Guildmaster be worrying about being monitored within her own guild headquarters 1, 2, 3, 4, Zyan thought, trying to keep it private.
"And – pretty amazingly - you can see the door as well as I can." He guessed, and said out loud.
"Correct. You're an astute man." Alenda told him.
"Thank you, I do my best." Zyan replied in an echo of her earlier words, with a smile, then sighed. "I didn't come here to try and charm my way out of anything, though, and I'm not going to insult your intelligence by denying that I was armed - or unleash Hollin on the Guild's upper echelons like some sort of legal attack dog. There will be consequences and I will face them alone. You already know what happened, I take it."
"I don't know the details – I only know there wasn't a lot of truth being told in the sorting area. I know that you were lying, despite your efforts to keep me out – which weren't entirely ineffective, by the way, but you need practice." Alenda said.
"I'm surprised the counting thing did any good at all – and I'm genuinely sorry about the lies." Zyan said.
"I know you are – that's why we're here. I also know that Vander was terrified and lying, that Korzac was furious and lying, and that Shecherzia was ashamed and lying." Alenda said.
"Shecherzia was ashamed? I didn't even know she did shame." Zyan was surprised.
"She was feeling very guilty." Alenda confirmed.
"She sharding well should be." Zyan answered. "She left me and Marin to die in the ranges with no more help than a first aid kit she threw out of her sled hatch after she'd finished rescuing a would-be murderer."
"The bond between partners is very strong." Alenda said.
"Strong enough, apparently, to perjure yourself to protect a psycho." Zyan said.
"In a moment I would like you to tell me what happened." Alenda said. "But before you do, you should know that the Guildmaster has no intention of taking any action against you or your partners. We're well aware that Korzac is dangerous. We will take what action we can to ensure he is not a danger to anyone else."
Zyan nodded. "Thank you. There'll be a price, for this considerate attitude from management?"
"Yes – but you may find it's one you're uniquely well-suited to pay." She answered, mysteriously. "First – what happened?" Alenda asked.
Zyan paused. "If I remember it…will you be able to watch?"
Alenda laughed. "What an amazing thing that would be! It doesn't work that way, I'm afraid."
Zyan felt foolish, Alenda patted his hand – and received a spark of resonance. She laughed.
"Go on." She said.
Zyan related what had happened and left nothing out. She questioned him closely on the blasting charge and the stunner, and seemed very curious about Vander, but didn't ask for a lot of details about Korzac's actions or what Shecherzia had done. Zyan found this odd.
Alenda, obviously, picked up on this. "I suppose it does seem a bit odd. I'd tell you more if I could, but please don't ask. Can I see the stunner?"
"The stunner? Yeah, I suppose I should really hand it over to you anyway." He produced the three sections and laid them on the table.
"Ingenious – you waltzed through Shankill security with this in your baggage, I presume, and didn't raise a peep from any sensors." Alenda said – her fingers went to her wrist unit. "Assemble it, if you would, please."
Zyan did so.
"How long?" He asked.
"Seventeen seconds." Alenda said. "I'm impressed. And back into it's pieces again – with your eyes closed. I will be able to tell."
"Never doubted it." Zyan closed his eyes and disassembled the gun.
"Nineteen seconds." Alenda noted.
"What can I say, I'm out of practice." Zyan said. "Alenda, this is starting to sound a lot like a job interview – and not for any kind of job the Heptite Guild would be involved in, either."
"You might be surprised by the number of strange little jobs the Heptite Guild ends up being tasked with." Alenda told him, then finished her beer. "I'm afraid I will have to take that, though. Do you have any other weapons stashed anywhere within Guild jurisdiction? This is a one-time offer – speak now or forever hold your peace, and I do mean that literally."
Zyan pushed the disassembled stunner obediently across the table to her. "Just this." He said. "I lost my thermonuclear warhead down the back of the sofa."
Alenda smiled and took the stunner parts.
"And my side of this deal?" Zyan asked.
"This meeting never happened. There was never any gun. You and your friends stick to that story and never mention it again." Alenda told him.
"That's understood." Zyan said. "But what did you want from me?"
"Maybe nothing. If you don't hear from me or the Guildmaster in the next twenty four hours, it's history." Alenda shrugged.
"And if I do?"
"Bridges should be crossed when necessary, Zyan." Alenda told him.
"Okay. So, if the business part of this meeting is over, tell me..." Zyan struggled for words. "How do you do it, all of it?"
"Magic." Alenda smiled.
"Play nice – you promised me an answer." Zyan replied with a grin.
"I said the answer to that question would cost you a drink in the common room." Alenda reminded him. "This isn't the common room and the drinks were on me."
"You must be a really good lawyer." Zyan said.
"I do my best." Alenda answered with a laugh. "I do have one answer for you, though. One million, three hundred and ten thousand, five hundred and twenty nine."
"Which means wh-, wait, is that the total for what we cut? Holy shards!" Zyan gasped.
"Oh, no, that's not your total." Alenda shook her head.
"Oh, right. Never mind." Zyan was crestfallen.
"Aw, you're just like a little puppy that's been told off. So cute. That's just the official total. If you include the three five shaft sets you cut on day one and the further two you cut subsequently, plus the six shaft set – which marketing will go positively hysterical over, by the way, once they're allowed to know it exists – then your partnership pulled down just over two million one hundred thousand credits in six days of cutting. Tell your friends to keep it quiet, please." Alenda told him.
Zyan nearly blacked out and started to do some mental arithmetic.
I'll save you the trouble: it's about a hundred and thirteen thousand each, after the tithe, Alenda sent.
"Thanks. Whoa. Why aren't we allowed to talk about the five shaft cuts again?"
"No dice, Zyan, sorry." Alenda said.
"It was worth a try." He grinned.
Alenda looked at him. "You really are fascinating, you know."
"I'm not so special." Zyan said, with a slight shrug.
"I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of people who accepted what I am as calmly as you have." Alenda told him. "I've had people – friends and family- never come near me again. I've never had someone quite so unfazed by the concept of telepathy as you."
"It goes both ways." Zyan shrugged.
Alenda frowned. "How so?"
Zyan also frowned as he groped for eloquence. "Whenever you communicate with someone, no matter how you do it, talking, writing, whatever: you let a piece of that person in. You've just got a more direct method, is all. You said I seemed more willing to let you in? You seemed worth letting in."
Alenda blinked, smiled, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "That's a very lovely thing to say. It's an even lovelier thing to mean – and I happen to know you mean it. Thank you, Zyan."
"You're welcome. I'd ask if you wanted to go somewhere and have another drink, but I suspect the answer is going to be no, because you have to go and report how this conversation went to the Guildmaster and the Crystal Singer." Zyan said.
"I'm supposed to be the psychic one." Alenda answered, standing up.
"Another time, then?" Zyan suggested hopefully, as he also rose.
"Yes. I'm going to be rather busy, soon. You may be, too - but whatever happens I will call you again." She said. "Enjoy the rest of your beer, Zyan."
She left, and Zyan purposefully turned his head to look at one of the ridiculous blurred windows as she walked away.
You're learning, she sent with a playful twist of humour, as the door swished shut behind her.
It was less than a day before he saw her again, as it turned out - Zyan spent most of it drunk. The storm still raged outside – nobody was going anywhere to cut.
Zyan let everyone know that he was off the hook, what the totals were, and to be discreet about it. Then they all, Zyan included, went to sleep - it had been an exhausting day even for those of them who hadn't been attacked/nearly blown up/shot someone with a stunner/escaped an illegal weapons charge/had their mind repeatedly read – delete as appropriate. This was made easier when he put aside his instinctive distrust of the radiant fluid and tried it. Yes it was icky – it was a lot less irritating than constantly sparking off people and things, though.
The next morning he was awoken by a call from the sorting area.
Clodine's face filled the com screen. "You lot are weird." She said.
"And a very good morning to you too, Chief Sorter." Zyan replied.
"Hmph. Biggest stack of black crystal I've ever seen, we work ourselves ragged trying to get it sorted so you're not kept waiting for the total - and not one of you is around to ask what it was." Clodine said.
"I am really sorry." Zyan said diplomatically. "We all went to bed, we were very tired, and we didn't want to be hovering over your shoulder the whole time. There seemed to be enough singers hanging around as it was."
The real reason was, of course, that they already knew. It didn't seem politic to say that, however.
Clodine smiled. "Yep. Weird. Swing by when you're up and I'll do the big reveal. You're going to love it. Even without the you-know-what it's impressive."
Zyan decided to get up then, but before heading down to the sorting area he went to the commissary and bought a fearsomely expensive case of Kachachurian scotch and several bottles of wine. The scotch he had delivered to Murr with an apologetic note. The wine he took down to the sorting area.
"For all you guys in recognition of heroic sorting of our crystal, apologies for not hanging around getting in the way and giving you a hard time while you did it, and also to say sorry for the thing with the dead guy in a crate." He explained, handing the clinking boxes to Zadran.
Zadran sighed. "You just don't get it, do you? Thank you, I suppose."
"Nope." Zyan agreed. "You're welcome, I suppose."
Clodine told him the total for public consumption. Zyan feigned delighted surprise, well enough to make even the hardest-bitten sorter smile a little, and left in a cloud of goodwill that Zadran would no doubt sigh heavily over.
He found everyone else in the commons. Far from settling down to coffee and cereal, they had already declared a day of celebration and broken out a plethora of alcoholic beverages.
"Zyan!" Tornaz hailed him. "We're stress testing the symbiote's resistance to alcohol. Care to join us?"
"Yep." Zyan said. "Just found out our total from Clodine, and if anyone asks we just found out it's one point three million, okay?"
Tornaz appeared to be already tipsy. "Message received and understood, skip." He said in a stage whisper, then declared dramatically and at volume: "One point three million! Ladies and gentlemen, we are officially minted!"
This earned them a few laughs, but more hard stares and muttering from around the commons. Zyan heard 'locusts' being used a lot.
"I think we're gonna hack off a lot of people if we kick off a private festival in the middle of the commons." Zyan said. "Let's take this elsewhere – I happen to know a place."
"I will join you presently." Marin said, looking thoughtful. "I have a small errand to run, first."
They repaired – with alcoholic supplies – to the Eye of the Storm where they continued their revelries. Marin rejoined them a half hour or so later.
"I have a present for each of us." He announced. "I have had these fabricated."
He placed thirteen soft discs on a table, each of them about three inches across.
"Coasters?" Rhanui asked, confused.
"Sleeve patches." Aviczue corrected him, smiling. "Marin, they're perfect."
Each patch was decorated with the same design – a long-tailed, winged insect of some kind set, in flight, against a background of the spires and peaks of Ballybran.
"Is that a locust?" Zyan asked.
Tornaz laughed. "Hah! They are perfect." He slapped one onto his sleeve. "If that's what they want to call us, then damn it we'll own it."
"I think, ladies and gents, that we've found the name for our partnership." Hollin said.
"Yep." Zyan grinned. "Thanks, Marin."
"A toast – to the Locusts!" Tornaz called. Everyone raised their glasses and it went raucously downhill from there. There was even singing, at one point, some of it extremely bad.
It was some hours later when the Guildmaster and the Crystal Singer came to find them.
"Ahem." Dahl caughed politely.
Everyone whirled around in surprise like naughty children, but the man was smiling.
"Relax, I haven't come to serve a noise abatement order." He said.
"Although whoever mangled the C I heard walking up the corridor deserves one." The Crystal Singer added, to a laugh. Tornaz – the guilty party – was once again whacked on the arm by Pharisa.
"Having been tipped off that you were having a party, we've come to offer our congratulations on a very impressive haul – and a new approach to cutting, one which I intend to get behind." Dahl said.
"Get these people a drink!" Tornaz declared, and drinks were duly provided.
"You'll have to keep at it if you want to break any records, though." The Crystal Singer said.
"She holds most of them." Dahl added. "Which she never reminds anyone of."
"How is it you do it, CS Daryaza?" Killashandra asked Pharisa. "Like this, I believe?" She whacked the Guildmaster on the arm – he feigned pain and shock, and everyone laughed.
"Seriously, though," she said, raising her glass, "well done. Not to sound like a motivational management course, but we need ideas like that and singers like you, you- what are you calling yourselves?"
Zyan patted his sleeve patch. "We're going with 'the Locusts', ma'am."
The Guildmaster smiled. "I'd heard the scuttlebutt. Nice move."
"Marin's idea." Zyan pointed at him.
"To the Locusts, then." Killashandra said, and a toast was drunk. She glanced at her wrist unit. "You know, I do believe I'm done for the day. I might have another of these, if these good people don't mind me crashing the party?"
"Of course not, sit down!" Was the general refrain. "Guildmaster?"
Lars shook his head, and handed his glass, untouched, to his partner. "Alas, duty calls. Zyan, how drunk are you right now?"
Zyan went very still inside for a moment. Well, Alenda had mentioned there would be a price. He could hardly complain when the bill came due.
"I wouldn't trust myself to retune a set of crystals, but I've been drunker." He replied. He was, in truth, not very drunk. The symbiote was proving remarkably resilient to the three glasses of wine he'd had.
"Could I borrow you for a bit? There's something I'd like your input on." The Guildmaster asked.
A couple of the Locusts gave vent to good natured jeering of the 'oooh, get him' variety.
"Sure, no problem." Zyan agreed.
It had been deftly done. The Crystal Singer would stay behind to reassure the others that Zyan wasn't in trouble while the Guildmaster neatly extracted him.
"I'll get him back to you as soon as poss." Dahl promised over his shoulder, as they left.
The Guildmaster kept the conversation on innocent matters as they walked together to the lifts and thence to his office – what his experience of cutting crystal had been like, how they'd organised themselves while they were on claim, and, with a twinkle in his eye, how they'd managed in the mornings.
Once they were in the outer office – again, deserted - and the doors were closed, his tone changed.
"At some point I will want to know more about how your team runs itself, so we can, hopefully, get other singers working together in the same way. We've got rather more pressing matters to deal with right now, though." He said.
"I figured, sir." Zyan replied.
"Through here, please."
The Guildmaster showed him into the inner office, which contained Alenda, seated demurely to one side of the desk. The components of Zyan's stun pistol were on the desk, alongside a stack of pencil files and some tablets.
"Zyan. Nice to see you again." She inclined her head.
"Hey Alenda." Zyan said. "Always a pleasure."
"Sit down, Zyan – there's coffee in the pot, there." The Guildmaster said as he sat down. "You're aware that something is up, and that Alenda is more than just our Chief of Legal, so I'll dispense with the pleasantries. The Heptite Guild is in serious trouble, and we want your help getting out of it."
"You've got it." Zyan said instantly.
Alenda looked at him. "You may wish to reconsider once you've heard what we have to say. We don't need the kind of help CS Jarvis the crystal singer can give us. We need Black Zyan."
Zyan nodded. "That's the impression I got last night, yes. So: the Guild has a problem. It's got something to do with a five-shaft set of black crystal, and at some point over the past few weeks this requirement became secret, because when you asked Borton if he'd cut a quintet you didn't mind the whole sorting area knowing about it. Vander is somehow involved and improvising explosives and field-stripping a stun pistol in under twenty seconds could be somehow helpful."
"How did you know Vander is involved?" The Guildmaster asked.
"I told you he was astute." Alenda said.
Zyan poured himself a coffee and leaned back in his chair. "When you're ready." He said.
Don't overdo it, Zyan. Alenda raised an eyebrow to accompany the thought.
Sorry, he sent back.
"Have you heard of the Federal Strategic Resources Act, Zyan?" The Guildmaster asked, a few moments later.
"Can't say I have." Zyan replied.
"You should have – it's also known as the Intilla Bill. It was drafted and passed in response to the Djielese crisis. Any number of influential guilds, corporations and representatives were crying out for intilla powder. They demanded the FSP do something. The FSP responded with the FSRA. Here's the headline phrase: 'In situations where the sufficient provision of a resource of interplanetary importance is considered to be under threat and a notification served to the legal authority in charge of said resource has been ignored or terms of said notification breached, the FSP may, with the agreement of a simple majority of the Session, deploy civilian and military assets in order to secure the sufficient provision of said resource in line with the existing legal obligations that pertain to the revocation of a planetary charter due to unavoidable danger to the ecosystem.'"
"Poetic." Zyan commented dryly.
The Guildmaster gave a snort of grim laughter. "Agreed. What it means is that if a government isn't ensuring that something very important is getting out to the rest of the galaxy in sufficient quantity, then the FSP can tell them to get their act together or they'll have cruisers in orbit asking pointed questions as to what the problem is and marines landing on the surface to get the answers. You get a polite letter first, though. The Protectorate received the first one of these just after you made yourself famous by destroying a very important black crystal. I got mine a few weeks back." The Guildmaster spun one of the tablets around and pushed it toward Zyan.
"But I haven't blown anything up for, well, hours." Zyan protested.
"Hilarious. This is serious, Zyan." Alenda reprimanded him.
"Sorry. I'm assuming the FSP has had enough of the crystal shortage and are trying to scare you into magically producing more of it. Didn't we just cut an absolute shed-load of black, though? That should be enough to keep them off your back for a while." Zyan said.
The Guildmaster laughed. "If only it was that simple. The FSP has been grumbling about the supply of crystal for centuries, Zyan, and has done precisely nothing about it until a troublesome ex-revolutionary started causing a fuss."
"Um, sorry, but I've only been here like five minutes and-" Zyan started to say.
"I'm talking about myself, Jarvis. Get over yourself and then go read a history book. The Optherian Uprising." The Guildmaster said heavily.
"Oh. Right." Zyan had heard of it, and it had been centuries ago. He'd aged well – or rather: well, he hadn't aged.
"Here's what I mean by fuss." The Guildmaster clicked a remote, activating the screen above his desk again, and showing a line graph. It trended downwards for a very long time, then started to claw some altitude back towards the end of the scale.
"See that uptick? Me – pestering the FSP to be able to one - making hard and ethically questionable decisions about regression to try and save the guild. Next one – Killa's training drives. Next one – singers like Dane and Jolinda making the new methods work better than the old. It paid off – we started shipping more crystal out. And that was my mistake."
"Come again?" Zyan was confused.
The Guildmaster overlaid a second line. "This line shows demand for products that compete with crystal." It crawled gradually upward, making progress as the Guild faltered – and then tanked as the Guild's line fought back.
"If you can't get crystal, you go for an alternative. It might be slower – it might even be more expensive and come with punitive contractual clauses – but it's always available and crystal isn't. There were a lot of people and organisations making a lot of money out of that situation."
Zyan twigged what the Guild's problem was. "This shadowy corporate conspiracy got a name?"
"Nothing so obvious." Alenda replied. "What they do have, though, is political clout. For the first time in it's history, the Guild hasn't been able to influence a FSP decision favourably."
"My fault." Dahl said, sounding weary. "I didn't see it coming – I was concentrating solely on increasing output as a means to save the Guild. I didn't stop to think who that might annoy – apart from singers themselves."
"It wasn't your fault." Alenda told the Guildmaster, with considerable sympathy. "That kind of thinking doesn't come naturally to people like you."
"Dinosaurs?" Dahl asked.
"Idealists – the kind of people who should be in charge of planets and guilds." Alenda corrected him firmly, with a hand on his shoulder, as if she was offering comfort to a family member rather than talking to her boss. Then she turned to Zyan. "Whoever our adversaries are, they've convinced the FSP to serve this notification, and they've even written some of it. There's an order for black – a big one, five matched shafts. A multi-system network connecting several industrialised systems. Four of them are mostly harmless, the fifth, on the other hand, is a cesspool. A long-standing civil unrest problem and an even longer-standing issue with the ruling families being cordially – but violently - at each other's throats."
The Guildmaster took up the story again. "We've ignored the order for decades because a) it's a dangerous place and b) the family in charge tends to change every few years, so who would we bill? However, the FSP has been encouraged to make the fulfillment of this long-standing order a condition of the Heptite Guild's autonomy. If we can't demonstrate we can start filling back orders – starting with this nest of vipers – then 'an organisation comprised of industry experts' will be assigned to 'provide managerial guidance' – we'll be managed right into the ground for as long as it takes me to convince the FSP that they made the wrong call, by which time I suspect it will be a moot point, as the Guild will have collapsed."
"Not ideal." Zyan replied.
"Quite." The Guildmaster agreed.
"You have one part of the puzzle, now, though – you've got quintets in stock again. Tell me why you can't just install one of them, give these guys the figurative finger, and- Vander's their inside man, isn't he?" Zyan made the sudden leap.
Very well done, Alenda inclined her head.
"Yes." The Guildmaster nodded. "Like you've also noticed, I only found out recently. What your shadowy corporate conspiracy is thankfully unaware of is that I have, well, let's call it an old family connection in FSP Intelligence. We help them from time to time." He said, glancing at Alenda as he spoke, which Zyan found interesting.
Be a good little boy and I might fill you in on that little slip, Alenda sent, with a smile.
Yes ma'am, Zyan thought back.
"I called in one of those favours. They've been considerate enough to share with us what they know of this situation – one facet of which was the existence of a mole within the guild." Dahl continued.
"I would've gone with Korzac." Zyan said.
"That was my thinking, too. His debts would provide perfect leverage." Alenda said.
"As a crystal singer, especially of the old school, he'd be desperate to get off planet when he could. Hard to do that with loan sharks waiting in orbit. So why Vander?" Zyan mused.
"That we don't know. But as of yesterday, when you had your little stand off in the sorting area, I'm sure it's him." Alenda said.
The Guildmaster coughed. "This might be a little difficult to explain. Alenda, you see, has-"
"He knows, Lars." Alenda interrupted him.
"Oh, good." Dahl looked relieved.
"If the installation is common knowledge, Vander will inform the SCC, and-" Zyan said.
"SCC?" The Guildmaster cut in.
"Shadowy Corporate Conspiracy." Zyan supplied. "Shadowy enough, I take it, that your intel indicates if we tip our hand about the installation, they won't be averse to doing something drastic in order to make sure it doesn't succeed."
"The SCC has a group of people with a very specific skill set on retainer." Alenda said. "I know their reputation. It's impressive, but it isn't good."
"Any chance of blowing the whistle?"
Alenda shook her head. "They'll be prepared for that. By itself, it won't work. It will be a useful second string to the primary op, but the bottom line is this: the crystal must be installed."
"How do you plan on guarding it once you've installed it?" Zyan asked.
"Not our problem." Dahl shrugged. "One message sent and received over the network and this goes away, for us. We're not liable if someone destroys or sabotages any of the communications hubs after the installation. We just have to prove we can deliver on our contractual obligations."
"Oh-kay..." Zyan mused. "What if someone – some local enthusiast – was to do a bit of sabotage on one of the comms hubs before a crystal singer went anywhere near it? The FSP can't enforce their notification if the installation is impossible."
"The thought did occur." Alenda said, with a certain amount of approval. "It woud have to stay sabotaged, though – once it was repaired we'd be back to square one."
"And we're the good guys." Dahl said. "I won't stoop to that."
"Quite apart from the fallout if we were caught – and I think we can assume they're looking." Alenda said.
"Any chance they might false-flag that, and blame it on us?" Zyan asked.
Alenda nodded. "A very good point which I'll factor in – but my instincts are telling me they won't risk the possible exposure and the attention that would result from our claiming otherwise. They need a nice simple failure of the Guild to fulfil our contract, not something we can spin."
"I can see you chose the right man." Dahl said.
"I hope so." Zyan said, and turned to Alenda. "I'm pretty good with improvised kit in the field, and I'm not averse to using a stunner on someone, but even I can see my primary usefulness for this is that I'm deniable. If I'm caught being violent on someone else's planet then, well, it's Black Zyan, isn't it? What did you expect? We kicked him out of the Guild two weeks ago for using an illegal weapon on another guildmember. Sorry an' all but he is a fugitive."
"Zyan, it's not like that, we-" The Guildmaster started saying.
Nicely summed up. Can you work with that? Alenda sent.
I can, Zyan replied. Do you have an ops plan?
I do, Alenda sent. But I'm open to suggestions for improvement.
This isn't something we should discuss in front of the Guildmaster, Zyan thought. Not much point in giving him deniability if we then discuss all the details in his presence.
I quite agree, Alenda said.
"-we just need someone on the ground who can think on their feet and who's capable of defending himself, should the need arise." Dahl finished.
"I understand." Zyan told him.
"With your permission, Guildmaster, I'll continue the briefing in my office." Alenda said.
Dahl nodded. "Of course. Here." He pushed the disassembled stunner across the desk towards Zyan. "All things considered, I think you'd better have this back."
Alenda's office was only a few steps away. It was smaller and her desk was tidier – she went to stand behind it, but did not sit down straight away.
"Why are you so keen to volunteer, Zyan?" She asked.
"The Guildmaster and the Crystal Singer, plus a few other people I've met, seem like good people. They're trying to turn this place into something better than it is and I want them to be able to keep at it. But mostly because of you." Zyan answered.
"We've barely spoken more than a few times."Alenda replied.
"That was all I needed." Zyan told her.
Alenda wasn't the blushing type. "Thank you." She said. "You deserve some answers, I think – about me."
"Tell me only what you need to." Zyan said. "You know how this works. The more I know the more I can give away."
"Was that how it was in the Djielese Rebellion?" Alenda asked.
"Yeah – for good reason." Zyan replied.
"I know – but that's not how I want things to go between us. To begin with, there is something I have wanted to do for a while."
Alenda came out from behind the desk, moving with her usual graceful assurance. Her hands came up to his cheeks, pulling his lips down to hers for a kiss. It went on for some time.
"I have wanted to do that too." Zyan said, when they parted. "But don't we have a briefing to get through?"
Alenda swept her desk clear with one arm and pulled Zyan back towards it. "The briefing can wait."
Zyan was in complete agreement.
The briefing was continued in Alenda's bedroom, some time later. It felt right, being with her. Zyan didn't think either of them were the type to fall head over heels in love, but certainly he was completely relaxed in her intimate company, and she with him. Relaxed enough to give him the answers she'd promised.
"I was an FSP intelligence officer, in my previous life – my family have been involved in it for generations." She admitted. "As a girl, though, I thought I was going to go my own way, and studied for a degree in Interplanetary Law. I'd practiced for only a short time before I realised it wasn't for me. A law degree gets one into the FSP training programs, however, and blood will out: it turned out I was good at intelligence work. I rose quickly within the agency – and then, on what was supposed to be my final mission as a field agent, I was unfortunate enough to get in the way of some experimental nanotech. Nasty stuff – my eyesight was the first thing to go, then my hearing, then feeling in my extremities. I was a husk by the time they finally managed to clear it all out. The doctors could only communicate with me by tapping on a certain area on my back – it was the only place that had any nerves left."
That sounded horrible, and Zyan told her so.
"There was no cure – and constant pain. I instructed the doctors to put my affairs in order and end it – but one of my colleagues had another idea. He got in touch with a distant relative of mine – a great, great, great uncle. Lars Dahl, Guildmaster of the Heptite Guild on Ballybran." Alenda explained.
"You're related to the Guildmaster?" Zyan was surprised. "Wow. Somehow I don't see crystal singers as family types."
"Most aren't, but the Guildmaster is different. He's maintained ties with his family, through the decades. It's not all sentiment, I'm sure – you've just heard how useful having a connection with FSP Intelligence can be." Alenda said. "My colleague had worked with a crystal singer on one of those odd little jobs I alluded to before, so he knew about the Ballybran symbiote and it's capabilities. When all else fails, patients are occasionally brought to Ballybran as a last ditch, kill-or-cure attempt: you've met Donalla in medical? Similar story. My colleague got a message through to the Guildmaster who made the arrangements. I was offered the option and I took it."
"And it worked." Zyan said.
"It worked. I don't remember having any kind of a transition at all. I was weak and in pain – I welcomed the spore whether it was going to make me better or finish me off. I got my sense of touch back first, then my hearing – but my sight never came back. I counted my blessings: there was no more pain and after a while I felt good, better than I remembered feeling before the nano accident. I learned to read neobraille and went back to being a lawyer. A few months went by, and then I started sensing my surroundings. Donalla suggested I might be developing echolocation skills, but it wasn't that. I thought perhaps my sight might be returning, but it was clear my eyes had nothing to do with it, because I could see almost as well directly behind me as I could in front."
"Almost?"
"Yes. You've noticed that I still look at people when they talk to me: that's why. Donalla thinks it's purely psychological, but I have my doubts. I can't see colours, or through plasglas, but the level of detail was greater than I'd ever had with my eyes."
"You've got radar." Zyan said.
"Of a sort, yes, so it would seem." Alenda said. And then the voices started.
"You were hearing people's thoughts?"
Alenda nodded. "It started when I was off planet, visiting home. At first I thought people were just speaking to me, but their lips weren't moving and when I answered them I got some very strange looks. I kept it as much to myself as possible and returned to Ballybran to ask Donalla about it, but she doesn't have a scientific explanation for why I can 'see', let alone how the telepathy works. We keep working on it."
"No denying it's very useful."
"It has it's pros and cons. It took a long time to learn how to suppress it - most of the time I'd rather not have everyone else's thoughts taking up space in my mind." Alenda wrinkled her nose. "On the other hand, I always know if someone is lying to me – lying has a very distinctive signature - and I have a general idea what they're thinking about."
And the sending thoughts thing, when did that happen?
"You're shouting again." Alenda said.
"Sorry. This is tricky."
"You're telling me. To answer your question, I started to realise I had sending as well as receiving capabilities in the last five years or so." Alenda answered. "Just as with sensing thoughts, it's easier with some people than with others. Please understand that I keep usage of it to a bare minimum."
"Because ethics?"
"Because self preservation." Alenda said. "There is no formal registration program for telepaths because I'm the only one: there is for empaths, but I'm given to understand their gift is different. I'm registered as an empath with the FSP because it deflected attention and provided a convenient cover story for what's really going on. I keep as low a profile as possible - only Donalla, the Crystal Singer, the Guildmaster and now you know the truth about me."
"Seems wise to keep it need to know." Zyan said. "Why did you reveal yourself to me?"
Alenda stopped to think. "I know my secret is safe with you: I knew it the moment I met you."
"Well, I suppose you would know: but secrets aren't always safe with people – even the ones who'd take them to the grave." Zyan pointed out.
"Normally I'd agree – but let's assume the worst happens, you're captured and someone uses a modified pain threshhold sensor on you. You'd laugh it off." Alenda said.
"You've done your homework." Zyan noted. He didn't mind her knowing. "Not everyone's that advanced. Some just get the pliers out."
"You're a crystal singer, now." Alenda laid a finger on his chest. "Everything grows back."
"Really?" Zyan was amazed.
"Really. You weren't told?"
"Full disclosure, well, isn't." Zyan said.
"You are quite correct. It's revised every year and yet we still always manage to leave something out. You have had a Full Disclosure about me, though – I can promise you that."
"You didn't have to." Zyan told her.
"I felt I owed it to you. You are about to risk a lot for the Guild – largely, as you have yourself admitted, because of me." Alenda said.
"I'm also not in a guild cell because you kept me out of it." Zyan said. "And how much I'm about to risk depends on the ops plan."
"Yes, the plan." Alenda said, then felt her wrist unit. "As much as I'd like to return to our previous diversions, we really should get to that."
"I'll get dressed." Zyan said.
"Oh, no need for that." Alenda smiled. "It's cosy under the covers. Just pay attention and let me know if you have anything to suggest."
"Gotcha. Go."
"The contract is for five installations, but the main one I'm worried about is in a system called Chalice…" Alenda began.