Lanzecki stared out his office window at the hangar deck below. About two dozen singers were readying their sleds to take advantage of a few days of good weather. He recognized all of them, including one newly-qualified Milekey transition who was making his first solo trip to the ranges.
The young man's name came to him: Hama Naik, an Optherian who came to Ballybran as part of the first wave of emigrants from the FSP action that freed its citizens to leave the planet. Hama was tall and bulky - similar in silhouette to Trag.
Trag, whose body was now on its way back to Ballybran by Guild courier.
Trag Morfane. Lanzecki's "shadow" since their earliest days in the Heptite Guild. Trag, who had been his best friend, confidante, soulmate, and occasional lover for uncountable decades. Trag, who could have been one of the Guild's richest and most productive singers, but who chose to stay at Lanzecki's side to protect him from crystal thrall.
Trag, Lanzecki's assistant, whose perfect recall and meticulous record keeping helped keep the Guild functioning profitably. Whose skills and experience, not to mention his fair, yet demanding, mentorship turned the best of the best recruits into the Guild's most prized singers.
Trag, whose body was now on its way back to Ballybran by Guild courier.
Were there signs that Trag's symbiont had become deficient? Something Lanzecki or the medical team should have recognized before sending Trag off-planet?
Medical said no, but Lanzecki could not help doubting himself. Someone he knew that long, and that closely, whose moods and feelings he could sense as if his own, no matter how well Trag's carefully aloof demeanor fooled everyone else.
Trag, whose body was now on its way back to Ballybran by Guild courier.
While support staff and their symbionts eventually succumbed to the infirmities of old age, most singers died either by opting out for one reason or another, or by sustaining mental and physical injuries beyond the ability of their symbionts to repair.
The mentally injured lingered, often for decades, in the infirmary. Guild members necessarily signed on for life, and the Guild fulfilled their end of the bargain. They were cared for and made comfortable for as long as their bodies remained alive, on the chance that one day research might find a way to bring them back to awareness and lucidity.
Death from physical illness was unheard of, thanks to the symbiont's protection. Despite that protection, Trag had somehow contracted a bronchial infection on the way back from examining a potential crystalline life form on an airless planet, and succumbed to the illness less than a day later. A normally mild infection that was rare enough even among those who had no Ballybran symbiont to protect them, and so easily treatable that most people recovered within days.
By now, gossip about Trag's death had undoubtedly made its way to the Guild complex, via shuttle pilots and returning crystal singers. As the Guild Master's assistant, Trag would have been well-known to senior staff throughout Ballybran. Some kind of announcement of Trag's death woud be necessary. Not so much for the singers, whose memories tended to falter after a few decades, but for the support staff whose memories remained intact.
Lanzecki shuddered. Just as there was no formal procedure for appointing a new Guild Master, there was no procedure in the books to deal with the death of a Guildmember under such unusual circumstances. The Guild was unsentimental in such matters, but Lanzecki knew many would feel the loss nevertheless, whether as a friend or as a highly valued colleague.
It was also important to extinguish any fear among Guildmembers and customers of the Guild that its members could be susceptible to sudden illness and death. Unsentimental indeed, Lanzecki scoffed. Trag's body would be forwarded straight to Medical, where it would be examined and analyzed thoroughly, but they had already said, unequivocally, that the illness that took him posed no risk to Guildmembers.
Here I am solving problems and conducting business as usual, while my most intimate friend, my lifelong companion, my soulmate, my shadow lies dead in a stasis cocoon on its way back here, Lanzecki thought. Ever the responsible Guild Master, the pragmatic leader, the tough guardian of the Guild's interests. How do I mourn you, Trag Morfane? Dare I weep privately for you, for me? I certainly can't grieve publicly.
Lanzecki left the window and went back to his desk, settling into his chair. He flipped on the monitors to wait for word that Trag's ship had arrived at Shankill base, where he and the medical officer on duty would bring him home to Ballybran for the last time. In a world where the passage of time had little meaning, Lanzecki watched every minute tick by.
Perhaps we are both past our prime, Lanzecki thought. Through careful attention to his personal file, and especial care to avoid the known hazard of outstaying storm warnings in the ranges, his memory was mostly intact. Trag had come to Balllybran a little after Lanzecki, and having both undergone a Milekey transition they were naturally drawn to each other. He had volunteered to shepherd Trag on his first trip into the ranges, and came back with a nice load of green crystal.
They got along well, and partnered frequently. While every singer has felt the thrall of crystal on occasion, Lanzecki felt it more than most, especially with the scarce and valuable black crystal. Trag was big and forceful enough to break the thrall, and together they cut profitably and well.
At some point, Lanzecki was drawn into the business side of things, and left the ranges to act as the Guild Master's assistant. His trips into the ranges were few, and only to recharge his symbiont. Trag always went out with him, and always got him back safely home with a profitable load of crystals, mostly darks, and occasionally blacks.
When the old Guild Master died, Lanzecki took his place, with Trag, as always, at his side. They completed each other: Trag the loyal and capable assistant to Lanzecki, the charismatic and forceful leader. Trag the troubleshooter, Trag the mentor, Trag the ... lover.
That wasn't on either man's mind when they felt the crystal awaken on their first trip to the ranges together. But it happened, spontaneously and joyfully. They completed each other in a way neither had experienced before. At least in Lanzecki's experience.
Lanzecki had a tendency to play the field - his natural charisma ensured he could always find willing companionship. His tastes were eclectic, but intelligence and a strong personality always won out over simple good looks. As for Trag, who knew? He had always kept that part of himself under wraps, and if Trag ever took other lovers, male or female, it was never evident to Lanzecki.
Trag was tolerant of these amorous adventures, but was always careful to protect Lanzecki's - and the Guild's - best interests. More than once, Trag had tactfully dissuaded a lover from taking any further interest in Lanzecki when the relationship had the potential to interfere with the smooth operation of the Guild. While this wasn't something they ever discussed, Lanzecki was always privately grateful for Trag's protective instincts.
Oddly, Trag was more often the instigator when it came to lovemaking, despite Lanzecki's more dominant persona. Trag would give him "that look," then take him by the hand to the private lift that went frrom Lanzecki's office to his quarters deep below the Guild complex. Trag's hands and mouth knew all the special places on Lanzecki's body, where to touch and when, gently or strongly, to bring Lanzecki to a moaning climax. Then it was Trag's turn. Lanzecki had a few tricks of his own, drawing the experience out till Trag begged for release. "Better than a radiant bath," they'd joke, and embrace, and caress each other again.
Trag, whose body was now at Shankill base, ready for transport to Ballybran.
Lanzecki felt his throat tighten, then he swallowed hard to dismiss the feeling. He took the lift from his office up to the shuttle landing area, and within an hour was back from Shankill with his cargo and an entourage of medics. Donalla, that was her name, hovered around him as her staff moved the cocooon to the lab area.
Donalla, wondering how to comfort Lanzecki the man, and reassure Lanzecki the Guild Master. How much she knew about them, Lanzecki had no idea. It was common knowledge that Lanzecki and Trag were close, but how much of that closeness spilled over into their personal lives was, thankfully, not a subject for speculation. The Guild Master still commanded some respect and awe.
Do I maintain the facade of the cool, emotionless leader, or do I offer up my soul to this woman whom I barely know? Lanzecki thought. He kept himself under tight control. Can I bury my grief, or will I demand to embrace him for the last time, then join him in death?
Trag, whose body is now being examined and analyzed in a back room in the infirmary.
Donalla, her arms around Lanzecki, whispering "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, my heart is breaking for you." Lanzecki returns the embrace and tears fill his eyes. "I'm here for you, Lanzecki. Anything you need, I mean it," she whispers. Her face, too, is wet.
Trag, whose soul beckons to Lanzecki to join him in the void.