Aviczue would tell him not to take unnecessary risks, Marin would tell him that the proper authorities were already handling things. Zyan didn't want to hear that, so he went straight to Shara.
Out of all the Locusts, only Zyan knew the full extent of Alenda's unique adaptation to the Ballybran spore, but he was willing to bet that Shara entertained a few suspicions. Shara, like Zyan, had spent her formative years as part of an underground organisation, constantly on the alert for the secret (and not so secret) police. In that situation, paranoia was a trusted advisor rather than a mental aberration: you consulted it regularly, and if it told you something didn't vibe right, then if you were smart you took it seriously. She already knew Alenda was ex-FSP Intelligence and that her Guild remit went more than a bit beyond legal matters – she trained with her in the dojo and wouldn't be willing to simply chalk up Alenda's unerring blocking skills to good hearing. Shara might not know what Alenda had going for her, but she'd know she had some sort of hidden advantage, and if she hadn't mentioned it yet then it was only out of politeness and friendship. For all Zyan knew she had said something and Alenda had asked her to keep it quiet.
Whether she had or not, Shara was the best person to talk to right now. Zyan didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do something. He'd also been listening to his own pet paranoia, and it was telling him that something was out of whack – not just with the visit from Exigency but over the past few months.
Zyan swung past his own quarters quickly to dig something out of a drawer, then headed for Shara's. She must have been waiting for him, because the panel slid aside mere seconds after he pressed the entry chime, and she beckoned him inside with a quick jerk of her head.
Inside, she pointed at the ceiling. Zyan dug what he'd collected from his own quarters out of his pocket: a jamming device. He'd borrowed it from Alenda before the Chalice trip, so he could talk to Shecherzia without being monitored, and never quite got around to handing it back. Personal quarters were guaranteed private by the Guild, like everywhere else in the FSP, but when Exigency were bandying empathic agents around all bets were best assumed to be thoroughly off.
"That work?" Shara asked.
"Yep," Zyan replied.
"Good. What's your plan for finding our friend?" She asked bluntly, not bothering with any niceties such as asking him to sit down or 'hello'.
"No plan, thought I'd talk to you about that, but before we do anything else I need to check something with you," Zyan said.
"What?" She asked.
"My memory. Before Alenda left but after we stopped seeing each other, how long was that?" Zyan asked.
"There are bigger issues right now than whether you and Ale-" Shara started.
Zyan held up a hand. "This could be about way more than my sharding love life, humour me, okay?"
"Okay, but get to the point quickly. Seven or eight months," Shara answered.
"During which time I can recall maybe a half dozen brief, work related interactions with Alenda, and one longer relationship talk where we agreed to move on," Zyan said.
"Then you've been breaking the rules on cutting, packing or both," Shara said, and snorted. "You've been in and out of each other's quarters more than once and you've had that 'relationship talk' innumerable times."
"Your memories and mine do not match, then. Hang on, how do you know she's been in and out of my place and vice versa?" Zyan asked, eyes narrowing.
Shara looked back quite calmly. "I like to follow people without their noticing, learn their habits, routines and any weaknesses."
"Of course you do," Zyan sighed.
"Just keeping my hand in," Shara replied with a rare smile.
"Yeah, but why me? We're friends, right?"
"Take it as a compliment: you were in the trade, you're wary, hence you make for the best practice," Shara explained, then frowned. "Shecherzia's suprisingly situationally aware, too. Must have been dodging all those paparazzi when she was a big deal."
"Whatever. If you're right, then I'm missing a few memories," Zyan said.
"I am right. Go see Donalla, get checked out. I don't want people I can tolerate being around for more than an hour getting brain-damaged by crystal," Shara told him, in what was by her standards a highly emotional declaration of friendly concern.
"Already done – she gave me a clean bill of neurological health. Whatever's wrong, it isn't caused by crystal resonance. And Exigency just put me in a room with an empath."
It was Shara's turn to narrow her eyes. "You noticed him too then."
Zyan blinked. "No, it was the woman," he replied.
Shara's eyes widened again. "Both of them," she said.
"So it would seem," Zyan agreed. "You know how many registered empaths there are?"
"Fewer than there are active singers, I expect," Shara guessed.
"Not looking it up right now, all things considered, but I reckon you're right. Whatever's going on must be top-level scary, if they've got not one but two empaths on the case, and- Hang on, why didn't you tell me one of them was an empath?" Zyan interrupted himself to ask.
"Because he'd – they'd – know if you were forewarned about that," Shara told him, "which would incriminate both of us."
Zyan considered it. "Yeah, I would've made the same call," he agreed. "Anyway, point is, the situation must be fairly desperate, and has been for some time: Moran – he was with an older looking guy - met with Alenda on Shankill, before Passover: I'm assuming he recruited her for an offworld assignment: one which went south."
"Yeah, that part I can figure out for myself. If you don't mind me bringing you back to the sharding point, what are we going to do about it?" Shara asked, impatient.
"You're going to help me interrogate someone who's withholding information from me," Zyan told her.
Shara smiled in a slightly alarming fashion. "Now you're talking my language. A few slivers of crystal under his fingernails ought to loosen him up a bit," she mused.
"Shara! Shards! That's a bit extreme!" Zyan recoiled.
Shara pursed her lips for a moment, looked upwards, then back to Zyan. "I was...joking?" She offered.
"Were you?"
"Would you believe yes?"
"No, I wouldn't."
Shara exhaled. "Not much point lying about it then. Was kinda hoping you were talking about Vander, if that helps."
"Not really. We need to have a few words about proportional responses, Shara. Again," Zyan told her.
"Okay dad," Shara replied in the tone of a put upon teenager. "I'll behave. Who are we having a word with?"
"Me," Zyan informed her, "and you're driving."
- o O o -
Before Zyan had been able to set foot in the ranges, he'd had to marshal the rest of class 1999 into a repair squad and fix up a damaged airsled. Flight Officer Murr had acquired a few more staff and resources by the time Shara joined up, so she'd been issued with a brand new, squeaky clean sled. She evidently took care of her equipment, because although the exterior bore the scuffs and dents that the ranges had inflicted, the interior was spotlessly clean and undamaged. Like Zyan, Shara had installed a passenger seat – from which Zyan had a good view of the arsenal which she'd also installed in neat racks above the controls – a metal cudgel, a compound bow and a very large knife with an ornate handle and an odd, curved blade.
"You do know you're a little bit scary, Shara, right?" Zyan asked.
"On the contrary, Zyan, I'm simply a sports and cookery enthusiast," Shara informed him airily.
Zyan sighed. "Go on then, give me the explanation," he said.
"Delighted to," Shara replied. "Unlike certain people who shall remain Zyan, I didn't bring an illegal firearm with me when I joined the Guild."
"There's no official record of that...that exceptionally well disguised bit of weaponry," Zyan interjected, "and who told you about it anyway?"
"Vitzy," Shara explained. "For some reason she seemed to think I might have followed suit."
Zyan eyed the weapons. "I wonder why."
"Shush," Shara said. "However, Guildmembers are not only allowed but encouraged to continue any leisure pursuits they enjoyed before joining. I was a big fan of baseball, archery and also Zentaran cuisine."
"Okay, the archery excuse almost – almost – holds water. What the hell is baseball?" Zyan asked.
"Dane told me about it. You hit a ball with that club and run in a circle or something," Shara said.
"Yeah, clearly you were a massive devotee of the sport, your subject knowledge is beyond reproach," Zyan said, unconvinced. "And the hoofing great machete?"
"That," Shara said, "is a traditional Zentaran butcher's knife, used for skinning and preparing hridzak oxen. A galactic delicacy, very renowned for their unique flavour. They're ten feet tall at the shoulders, so you need a serious kitchen knife," Shara said.
"Okay – and they need to be in your sled why?"
"You're not the only one who can task Hollin with looking into points of Guild law, you know. Guildmembers are entitled to keep their personal belongings in their sled or in their quarters or in Guild storage. These are my personal sporting and cooking items which I choose to keep in my sled," Shara explained. "All above board and legal."
Zyan considered it. "Okay, I'm convinced."
"Thank you – I do consider things first, you know. Sure you don't want to reconsider this little outing?"
Zyan shook his head. "You'd think, wouldn't you, but no. It's a one-off, mind you – I'm not making a habit out of it."
"I should sharding well think so," Shara replied.
They landed just under an hour later at a Locust claim – a site called Yellow 2. It's chief utility to them at the moment was that it was the syndicate's closest site. It was a small one, covered up and insulated – yellow crystal was currently overstocked, so the Locusts had bigger fish to fry: if market conditions changed or, heavens forbid, they ran out of anything else to cut, then they'd return to it.
The common sense is-someone-following-me tradecraft of Zyan and Shara notwithstanding, the Locusts prided themselves on not being crystal-mazed paranoid delusional maniacs: but neither were they stupid. A few moments before reaching the claim's exact co-ordinates, Shara set the sled's scanners to maximum and did a slow circle, giving the horizon the once over for any other singers. This was pretty much standard procedure by now.
"Clear," Zyan said, fiddling with the gain on the sled's sensor package.
Shara reached over and slapped his hand away. "Don't touch my stuff. Do I touch your stuff?"
"You've never been in my sled," Zyan said defensively, rubbing his hand automatically despite the lack of pain.
"I've looked in your sled. That was quite enough to persuade me to never travel in it," Shara wrinkled her nose. "I've also smelled it."
Zyan winced. "That's fair – I've swapped out several bits of the interior but I still can't figure out where that smell's coming from."
"That probably means it's coming from you then," Shara pointed out.
"You're in a lovely mood this morning," Zyan told her.
Shara shot him a look as they descended. "I don't particularly want to be doing this, Zyan. It's totally batshards and you know it."
"Only game in town, looks like," Zyan replied.
"We could follow the Exigency agents," Shara said.
"And how are we going to do that? Fake moustaches and hats?"
"You and I both know how to fake an FSP ID," Shara replied.
"Granted, but I don't know how to fake a mind," Zyan answered. "They're empaths – even if we somehow managed to tail them through Shankill security and somehow got aboard whatever ship they're on, they'd know they were being followed. This is the only move we can make."
Shara snorted. "Yeah – but like I say, I don't particularly want to be doing it. Hence you get grumpy snappy Shara 'til it's over," Shara confessed.
"Grumpy snappy Shara is much better than no Shara," Zyan replied.
"Don't get all emotional on me, Jarvis," Shara answered.
The sled touched down – they both checked the co-ordinate readout and the weather, an automatic reflex.
Yellow 2 was a very short scramble up a slope from where Shara had landed – Shara took a crate and Zyan's cutter; Zyan toted a larger, cruder bit of equipment that laboured under the unwieldy title of General Purpose Excavation Device, but which Tornaz had christened the gauntlet, after it's similarity to an ancient knight's armoured glove. Essentially it was an economy size pickaxe and shovel rolled into one. It covered the user's arm up to the elbow – turn it on, and your hand became a mini-backhoe, capable of drilling and cutting through rock, then shifting it out of the way, with minimal physical effort. Only the Locusts used them – most singers didn't even know the Guild possessed such items.
In a pinch, you could also use it to punch a hole through a plascrete wall or tear your way through a sled door – but that hadn't come up as a use-case yet.
Once they were at the top of the slope, Zyan ignored the tingle of nearby crystal and used it to first cut a level shelf for the pair to stand on, and then to wrench away the amalgam of rubble and plasfoam that protected the claim. Uncovered once more, the crystal pinged and crackled at his senses. He ignored it's blandishments, and concentrated on wrestling the unwieldy mass to one side - they'd probably be able to glue it back in again afterwards.
Yellow 2 was a small nubbin of crystal, the furthest extremity of what Dane (who'd found it) had opined to be a sizeable vein. Yellow was good for multiple industrial and technical uses, but they tended to be specialist applications that didn't come up very often: hence the lamentable market price for the relatively uncommon shade.
Zyan traded Shara the gauntlet for his cutter. He removed his gloves, sang and pitched the face: F sharp.
"How long?" Shara asked.
"No sharding clue," Zyan replied. "What say we start with a minute and tweak from there?"
"No way," Shara shook her head. "Five seconds."
"Ten?" Zyan countered, although his common sense was saying 'zero' and the crystal was saying 'forever'.
"Okay, ten," Shara agreed reluctantly. "Cut."
Zyan nodded, sang, and cut. He was, by now, as accustomed to the scream of crystal as he was ever going to get – but the sensation was always jarring and horrible. This time out, there wasn't even the consolation that subsequent cuts would be more bearable: he only needed one shaft.
He killed power to the cutter and handed it back to Shara, leaving the crystal in situ for the moment. Conveniently, the sun was streaming in from behind him: he turned around so he could lean back against the rough stone beneath the exposed crystal, then reached up for the shaft of yellow.
"Here goes no-" He started to say.
"What the shard were you thinking, Zyan?" Donalla was asking him.
"Donalla? What are you doing here?" Zyan blinked. He was horizontal. Did I fall over? His voice was rasping, rough.
"You're in the infirmary, Zyan," the medic supplied, waving a diagnostic wand around his head. "Shara brought you in. You thralled."
"Yes, we were-" Zyan began.
"Checking out a new yellow site, and this genius forgot his gloves again," Shara chirped in.
Zyan's brain finally finished whatever reboot sequence it'd been running through and slammed the brakes on his imminent confession.
"I'm such an idiot," he said instead, glad that his voice was hoarse: it masked the lie.
"Yes, you are. You're supposed to be one of the smart singers, Zyan," Donalla chided him.
Zyan remembered that he'd thralled before, and not ended up in the medical wing. He turned his head to face Shara. "Could you not get me out of it?"
"Keep still," Donalla said, moving his head back around like an overly insistent barber. "No, she couldn't snap you out of it, and that worries me. Thrall can be ended by a number of things – the sun going down, the thralled singer dropping the crystal, their partner taking it out of their hands. Shara took away the crystal and even administered a number of physical blows, but it's taken some pretty potent stimulants to bring you out of it."
"The punching bit was kind of satisfying, though," Shara smirked.
"Shaz! This is serious!" Donalla said sharply.
"Sorry, Dee," Shara replied meekly.
"Shaz? Dee?" Zyan asked.
Shara shrugged. "Me and Dee train together. We're friends and we have nicknames."
"How come nobody else calls you Shaz?" Zyan asked.
Shara repeated the shrug. "Other people do, just not you."
"And where are you finding the time for all this physical exercise?" Zyan asked. Shara shrugged.
"Moving on," Donalla hinted.
"Yes let's," Zyan agreed. "How long have I been out?"
"At this point, just over two hours. People have thralled for longer, but not when someone was on hand to physically break it. This shouldn't have happened," Donalla said, consulting her readouts and frowning. "I may have been a bit too dismissive of your concerns earlier today."
"Has your diagnosis changed?" Zyan asked.
"No – things are a bit frazzled in there from the thrall, but there's still nothing to indicate neurological trauma," Donalla shook her head. "It doesn't make sense."
"Since when was crystal, the spore, singers or Ballybran in general required to make sense, Donalla?" Asked a voice from the doorway. The Crystal Singer.
"Crystal Singer," Zyan said.
"CS Ree," Shara said, with a nod.
"Hey Killa," said Donalla.
She entered the room with a smile for Donalla and a frown for Zyan and Shara. "Is your patient in a condition for a...quick chat, Donalla?" The Crystal Singer asked, imbuing 'a quick chat' with ominous overtones.
"I've no excuse to keep him laying on a diagnostic bed – I can't find anything wrong, either now or earlier on, and that's the entire problem," Donalla said. "The only thing I can prescribe is some time away from the ranges."
"I've literally just got back from hibernation on Shankill," Zyan said.
"I know – but there's nothing else I can recommend," Donalla said helplessly, then noted that the Crystal Singer was waiting. "I'll give you some privacy," she said.
Donalla headed to the door. Shara got up to follow, but the Crystal Singer held up a hand. "You can stay, CS Ferozacorazon." Her pronunciation of Shara's multisyllabic second name gave her no trouble at all, it seemed.
Shara paused. "Okay. Do I have to?"
"I think you do, yes," the Crystal Singer answered, closing the door and hitting the privacy button behind Donalla.
She stared at the two singers for a good few moments. Zyan levered himself up and off the bed. He felt fine – if somewhat pinned under the Crystal Singer's assessing gaze.
"Um, if you're going to, CS Ree, could you crack on with giving us a bollocking? It's getting a bit tense in here," he said.
"The Troublesome Twosome, they call you in admin," the Crystal Singer finally said. "There's an unofficial pool going, by the way, on which of you will generate the most complaints from other singers by next passover."
"Who was it last time?" Shara interjected.
"Zyan," CS Ree said.
"Oh," Shara looked disappointed. "I'll have to up my game."
"Not on my account, please," the Crystal Singer responded, then exhaled in a sigh. "Are you okay, Zyan?"
"So I'm told by Donalla," Zyan replied.
"Do you feel okay?" She amended her question.
Zyan opened his mouth to say yes, then closed it. "Where is this going?"
"Lars and I do genuinely worry about you, Zyan. You too," she included Shara. "It's not putting it overly dramatically to say that you two saved the Guild."
"We didn't save the Guild, okay, we were part of a team that helped to avert a crisis but I'm sure you and Lars would've been able to-" Zyan started.
"For current purposes of avoiding a bollocking can we agree that yes, we saved the Guild?" Shara interrupted him with a raised eyebrow and a sharp elbow.
"Good point, we saved the Guild. Can this be a 'jolly well done' rather than a chewing out?" Zyan asked.
"We're worried about you, Zyan. Lars and I know that you – both of you – care about Alenda a great deal. Now Donalla tells me that you were in here asking about memory loss, and one interrogation by FSP agents later, you show up having thralled yourself," Killashandra said. "Is there anything you'd like to share with me?"
"How did you know I-" Zyan started to protest.
"Because I'm not stupid, Zyan, I can put two and two together and get four. You had yourself checked out by Donalla – in advance of a Guild summons – and asked her about regression. She tells you you're not a good candidate for it, but she lets slip that she once experimented with regression via thrall. A few hours later you're in the infirmary suffering from an unusual case of thrall having cut precisely one shaft of crystal from the claim that you can get to quickest," Killashandra told him, exasperatedly.
"She's right, we really didn't cover our tracks very well on this one," Shara shook her head. "We're getting sloppy."
"What have you forgotten, Zyan?" Killashandra asked him directly. "What are you trying to remember and what does it have to do with Alenda?"
"Okay, since we're apparently in confessional now," he shot a glance at Shara, who looked completely unapologetic, "I don't know what, if anything, I've forgotten. But you asked me how I feel and something doesn't feel right. Shara feels the same way."
Killashandra looked at Shara, who nodded. "Something is off," she confirmed.
"Lars and I agree," Killashandra said. "Everything else aside, Exigency don't show up unless a situation is well past normal. That's no excuse to go off attempting reckless stunts in the ranges, however."
"And we're back to the telling off," Zyan said.
"This is friendly concern. You'll know when I'm telling you off, young man," Killashandra told him sternly.
"Yes ma'am," Zyan agreed. "Sorry. Should I go to my room until I've thought about what I've done?"
"Don't push your luck," the Crystal Singer cautioned him.
"Sorry," Zyan apologised again. "Um, should we be discussing this? Exigency were pretty specific that we shouldn't?"
"We are Hepite Guildmembers, CS Jarvis. The Guild will decide what can and cannot be discussed amongst it's own. The FSP may make as much noise as it wishes about secrecy, but we have our rights. So – did it work?" Killashandra asked.
"Um, did what work?" Zyan asked, confused.
"Thralling yourself," she clarified. "Any memories you didn't have access to before?"
Zyan had to stop and think about that one. "How would I even know?"
"Believe you me, Zyan, you'd know," the Crystal Singer said.
"Did – did you try it?" Shara asked.
"She did," Zyan said, taking a sudden guess, "Donalla's early test subject was you, and it didn't work."
Killashandra nodded. "You're right on both counts. It didn't work."
Zyan narrowed his eyes. "But you've got total and perfect recall of everything that ever happened to you – at least if scuttlebutt is to be believed."
"I arrived at that via a different route," Killashandra answered. "Now, for the record: is there anything you have recalled that we should tell Moran and Saito?" Killashandra asked.
Zyan shook his head. "Sweet shard all," he admitted.
"Shara? Did you try this too?" Killashandra asked.
Shara shook her head. "I was just there to make sure he didn't get dead," she said.
"And a good thing too," Killashandra said. "Given Donalla's prescription, I am sending you – both of you – off Ballybran. You need to be kept out of trouble for a while."
"With all due respect, Crystal Singer, we haven't broken any rules or regs. You can't order us up to Shankill," Zyan protested.
"Who said anything about Shankill?" The Crystal Singer asked. "I have an off-planet assignment for you. I just don't think Ballybran is the right place for you right now – you're only going to cause trouble here, not accomplish anything. Your talents could, on the other hand, come in very useful elsewhere right now."
Zyan again opened his mouth to protest, but Shara silenced him with another unobtrusive elbow. "What kind of assignment, CS Ree?" She asked.
"I suppose it's best characterised as a diplomatic mission. To be exact, I'm sending you to check in with some old friends of mine – extend the hand of friendship, get in touch and keep in contact," Killashandra said, then looked intently at Zyan. "Think you can do that?"
"This isn't a choice thing, is it?" Zyan asked.
The Crystal Singer smiled at him. "No, CS Jarvis: but you will get paid."
- o O o -
The Crystal Singer told them that they'd be briefed on their assignment en-route, and gave them instructions to be on the next shuttle to Shankill (which was in just over thirty minutes). She then disappeared off to make arrangements, which would include the storage of their sleds and cutters.
"I'm not liking the idea of being sent off planet just when I need to be here," Zyan growled to Shara.
Shara sighed. "I'll give you a minute to catch up," she said. "Come with me."
She left. Zyan grabbed his jacket and followed her out into the corridor and to the lifts. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It isn't very private out here," Shara said, and pointed meaningfully at his jacket, where he had put the jammer.
The lift arrived - conveniently empty. Zyan flicked on the jammer once they were inside.
Shara prudently waited a few heartbeats for the jammer to power up before speaking. "You've said it yourself – we can't follow the Exigency agents, they'd sense it. That ship has probably sailed anyway, literally – they certainly wouldn't want to hang around on Ballybran in environment suits, and they've almost certainly got a fast vessel at their disposal. If there is, somehow, some information about Alenda's assignment locked up in your head then we don't have the capability to access it, so that's a dead end."
"Alenda could have left records saying where she is," Zyan objected.
"Do you want to try and break through information security that Alenda put in place? You have damaged your head," Shara snorted. "Besides, she's a professional spook and an FSP insider. If Exigency said no records then she'd leave no records."
"Which leaves us nowhere," Zyan grunted in dissatisfaction.
"No, which leaves us being sent somewhere mysterious by the Crystal Singer to 'check in with some old friends of hers'," Shara reminded him.
Zyan caught up: the penny dropped: "Which is a little bit convenient," he said, eyes narrowing.
"And he's back in the room," Shara commented, with a martyred glance at the lift's ceiling. "You'll recall that she just had a very public conversation with us in a room equipped with medical sensors which presumably record everything happening in there, one which she wanted on the record to say that a) it's up to the Guild what we can discuss amongst ourselves and b) we're being sent off planet to keep us out of trouble rather than chase after your ex. She's just handed us political cover to work together on this and simultaneously covered the Heptite Guild from any fallout. She's good," Shara commented, admiringly.
"You think she's..shepherding us towards something?"
"What I think is that it's fifty-fifty whether she has an agenda which aligns with ours and is giving us an opportunity to pursue it or she really is shuttling us out of the way so we don't create a stink with the FSP, and just doing so in a way which makes us believe she's subtly steering us in the right direction so we obligingly go along with it. What I know is we haven't got much choice but to carry out the assignment anyway. What I hope is that if we can steer clear of Vitzy for," Shara checked her wrist unit, "twenty nine minutes then we can avoid getting an earful from her about your crazy behaviour and my enabling it, and having to explain why we're being temporarily exiled."
Zyan agreed wholeheartedly about the last part. Aviczue was a close friend, but wouldn't stand for what she would see as a dangerous stunt carried out to aid illegal behaviour. She was, after all, an ex-copper.
"Doing her a favour, really. She wouldn't want to break any FSP rules by discussing Exigency, after all, and if we bump into her that's almost unavoidable," Zyan opined.
"Thought you'd see it my way. Need anything from your quarters?" Shara asked.
Zyan put his jacket back on – it was tough, hardwearing clothing for the ranges, armour by any other name, and he already had his toolbelt and the jamming device. The disguised stunner, regrettably, was now just a memory. "I can get everything I need in the commissary on Shankill."
"Good. I just need to swing past my sled," Shara said.
"You're getting tooled up for this trip off planet, aren't you?" Zyan asked suspiciously.
"Hey! Zero-G archery is a thing," Shara protested.
"Maybe, but I reckon you'll have a harder time explaining that massive knife," Zyan opined.
"Oh, don't worry. I have travel knives," Shara dismissed the problem with an airy wave.
- o O o -
When the Heptite Guild decided you were going off planet at short notice, they didn't muck about. A crack team of Guild admin types had clearly been mobilised the instant the Crystal Singer left the infirmary, had an ultra-fast project management meeting and then split into dedicated task-based teams in order to streamline the process of getting Zyan and Shara off the surface with minimal drag. Either that, or they'd made a special effort in order to get the Troublesome Twosome out of their hair for a while.
Whatever the motivation, there was a pair of matt-black streamlined backpacks, a pair of folders and a pair of antigrav crates sporting the Heptite Guild dodecahedron waiting for Shara and Zyan by the shuttle pad, with a pair of Guild functionaries standing guard over it all. The crates were broadcasting a complex blend of crystal tell-tales – there was even a bit of black in the mix.
"Singers," one of the functionaries greeted them as they arrived, smoothly moving into a memorised speech, "we have taken the liberty of preparing a bag of clothing, toiletries, personal communication devices and other travel essentials for you appropriate to the nature of this assignment."
The bags were duly proffered.
"Here are your Heptite Guild IDs, including access to the Session of the Federated Sentient Planets. It is not anticipated that this will be required for the assignment, but such authority is standard."
The folders were handed over.
"These crates," the man explained next, "contain samples of crystal in various shades which will require installation in the course of your assignment. Although only CS Jarvis has carried out installations before, the Crystal Singer assures me that no specific technical knowledge or expertise is required in this particular instance."
At a synchronised gesture from the two Guildspeople, the crates swished forward to hover behind Zyan and Shara.
"Finally, the Crystal Singer wishes to emphasise that this is a very important assignment, and furthermore one which is personally important to her. She has asked me to tell you that she has full confidence in you both, and to wish you a successful voyage."
"Thanks," Zyan replied. "That's nice: any idea what, exactly, we're supposed to be doing?"
The Guild drones evinced no surprise at this question. "That information has not been vouchsafed to us, CS Jarvis."
"Do you have any information as to transport after we get to Shankill?" Shara asked her admin type.
"A B&B ship has volunteered for this assignment," the man answered.
"The CM1244?" Zyan asked, even though he knew it was unlikely. Marcus and Chaka were out on the rim of known space, going where no-one had gone before with the FSP Exploration and Evaluation Corps. He envied them a little: crystal singers couldn't venture more than 100 days' travel from Ballybran without signing their own death warrants, and even then they'd have to immediately turn around and head straight back.
Alenda was currently facing such a deadline, Zyan remembered.
"This ship has no such designation that we are aware of," his handler answered. "Shankill Authority will direct you as required."
Zyan simply nodded, abruptly wanting to just go. "Okay, whatever. Anything else?"
The man shook his head. "No, CS Jarvis. Have a good journey."
His counterpart repeated these sentiments, leaving Zyan and Shara to board the shuttle: they were the last to do so.
This close to the end of Passover, there were only a few other passengers: a trio from Marketing, business-suited and armed with data pads, pencil files and a sure and certain faith in the Guild's monopoly on crystal, off to do battle with invading buyers. Deep in mercantile discussions, they ignored the singers after a single glance up as they boarded. Zyan gave them a cursory nod, just for form's sake. Moran and Saito must have already left. Shara was right: the few people that ever visited the surface never tarried long on Ballybran, where a single tear in your environment suit could turn you into a permanent resident – if you were lucky.
Zyan and Shara both inventoried the contents of their Guild-issue backpacks during the trip up: they'd been issued practical clothing – nothing formal, which Zyan thought a bit odd for a diplomatic mission. Besides a wash kit, they each had a small personal communicator, an unobtrusive model which fit within the ear. When Zyan touched his, he experienced a mild but familiar tingle. Black crystal.
The black crystal comunits he'd 'borrowed' for his jaunt to Chalice had been small, but nowhere near as small as this. They must have taken some engineering. He knew from Tornaz that there was a hard minimum limit on how small a comcrystal could be and still retain the ability to transmit and receive over useful distances. Black could be smaller than say, green, in this regard, but this device must be hardly any bigger than the crystal at it's heart. That probably indicated a limited power supply – Clarend the Cutter Technician was a veritable genius with neolithium batteries and microfusion reactors, but there were limits. Zyan rated it was quite likely the miracle earbug only had a few hours' life in it – he wondered how you went about recharging it.
"Got one of these?" He asked Shara.
"I've got two," she answered. "Black?" Shara's adaptation had been a very good one, but she did not share his sensitivity to that shade.
"Yep. Someone wants our conversations to be convenient and private – and to include a third person if we want."
"Thoughtful of the Crystal Singer," Shara remarked, and they both knew what she meant.
"Limited range, limited battery life, I suspect – but this is serious kit," he explained. "Better than what we had on Chalice."
"Than what you had," Shara replied with a slightly accusatory tone. Zyan hadn't revealed his team's capabilities to Shara and her friends in the Chalician People's Front until quite late in the operation, and his lack of forthrightness hadn't gone down brilliantly well.
"Are you ever letting that go?" He asked, with a pained expression.
"Couple centuries' time, maybe," Shara replied with a sniff, then returned to finding a way to stash her bow case in her backpack.
Shankill was a shadow of it's usual busy self – the base largely emptied after Passover, when Guild staff riding out the storms in orbit returned to the surface. Crystal buyers had not yet appeared in large numbers – they would only start to become evident in the coming weeks, building to a head just before the next Passover meant the supply of fresh-cut crystal dried up.
A Shankill Authority rep was at the lock to meet them.
"Guildmembers," he greeted them politely. "The BX Are We There Yet? is docked at lock 13 waiting for you, if you'd care to accompany me. I was told time is of the essence, so we'll step right along. Can I take anything for you?"
"Um, no. The BX what again?" Zyan asked.
The port rep looked faintly embarrassed. "I'm told he's been solo for a while, and, well, he does have his little ways," the man explained, unhelpfully.
They followed the man through Shankill's maze of corridors to lock 13, which appeared to be guarded by some sort of hovering robot. It was bright chrome, vaguely human-formed, with a pair of three-fingered arms hanging by it's sides and no legs. It had no head or neck to speak of – instead it was topped by a smooth dome, with a pair of glowing 'eyes' complete with eyebrows and a straight slash for a mouth. As they approached, it turned. The eyes switched from white to green, and the straight line curved up into a green smile.
"Crystal singers!" It greeted them, in a pleasant baritone. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm Brendan, well, this drone isn't me – CS Jarvis, Killa said you're not a B&B ship first timer (I met Marcus and Chaka once, by the way, lovely people, I do hope they're enjoying the wild frontier) but I'm probably not what you're used to – I'm a standard brain-in-a-box but I'm trying a few new things, including slightly more personable drones than the standard, run-of-the-mill remotes."
Brendan seemed to be a chatty and personable sort. The drone extended both hands for them to shake and, when they both proved to be right-handed, one of it's hands seamlessly reconfigured to make itself shakeable from the opposite direction. This amused Zyan, for some reason, and he gave vent to a small but delighted chuckle as they shook hands.
"Neat trick," he said.
"Basic engineering," the Brendan-drone replied. "I adapted this drone from a standard baggage-handling model. On which note, may I take your bags?"
A second drone of a similar design emerged from the lock to present itself to Shara. Both singers handed over their backpacks.
"Well then, I'll bid you a good journey, singers," the Shankill rep said, looking somewhat lost.
"My most effusive thanks, good sir," one of the drones said to the man, executing a formal mid-air bow.
"Yes, thank you very much," said the other in a slightly higher-pitched voice, turning to face him – it's features turned green as it did so.
The rep blinked. "Um, you're welcome," he said, then not-quite fled back the way he'd come.
"What a peculiar fellow," Zyan's drone remarked, features turning green again.
Shara's drone turned to face it – the two drones' features swapped colours, white to green. "He seemed very nice to me," it replied.
"Oh of course," the first drone agreed, then both drones turned back to face the singers. "We agree on everything," they said in unison, both with green features.
Shara looked very nearly as freaked out as the Shankill rep, although for Shara this manifested as a hard frown. Zyan's techie brain was running over concepts, though.
"I'm thinking you're not running these in parallel, unless you've figured out how to multi-thread your own brain," he said, "so either they've got limited autonomy and they're executing a pre-prepared script or you're, really, really good at switching between drones."
"Check out the big brain on CS Jarvis," Zyan's drone said. "I was warned about you – in a good way, naturally. It's a bit of both – oh, please follow me, by the way, and I'll show you to your quarters while we talk. My drones are indeed AIs – pink crystal does have it's uses, despite the common contempt I understand it to be held in – but they don't have much in the way of chat most of the time. I can piggyback on them when I so wish and I'm getting quite good at jumping back and forth and even running them concurrently. For the convenience of passengers, any drone under my direct control lights up green, so you know when you're talking to the organ grinder rather than the monkeys."
Brendan explained his innovations while he guided them aboard. Practising with more than one drone at a time seemed to be bleeding over into other areas of his life, because he rarely talked about just one thing during any given exchange, it seemed.
"I used to have a number, of course, but when my last partner Boira got hitched and moved on – nothing dramatic, I visit often, she's a grandmother now, obviously I tease her mercilessly about it – I started to get a bit bored with just being the BX1066. Anyway, I'd been doing a bit of reading and happened across a pre-space Terran author with a very offbeat take on sentient ships and tech. Yours truly here happens to be the fastest thing currently plying the spaceways, thanks to a few things I learnt while rescuing your Guildmaster from a Singularity twist, oh, twenty or so years back now – terrible business, he very nearly lost his life, but you crystal singers are a resilient bunch – however, long story short, I can get you to Opal in three days rather than a week – and thought, well, a bit of semi-serious rechristening was in order, hence I'm now the BX Are We There Yet? Killa said things were a bit pressing, but for the life of me I can't think why, the Junk isn't going anywhere, after all – at least not when I last checked. They're getting almost garrulous, these days, who's to say if they've started moving too? Where was I? Oh yes, the drones. Obviously, if you're going to be primarily a one-man band for a while, one needs them about the place to do those little odd jobs the brawn normally attends to, and people seem to prefer to have something to talk to rather than just a disembodied voice. Throw in a basic green crystal comsystem – at cost, must remember to thank Killa and Lars for that – add in an upgraded sensor package, and one has oneself a semi-autonomous drone network with an off-ship range of up to three hundred miles on the surface and thee thousand plus from orbit: further if I daisy-chain them to relay telemetry back and forth. It's so nice to be able to get out and about. Any questions so far?"
"Yeah, can I have a stiff double with a relative-normality chaser?" Shara asked.
Zyan put his hand over his face. "Shara. Remember those conversations we had about using your inside voice for stuff like that?"
Far from displaying any sort of contrition, Shara turned a 'what the shard have you got me into?' glare on him.
Brendan just laughed. "Sorry – I will go on sometimes. Shall we head to the mess? I'll pour you a couple of drinks, and then I can give you your briefing in a more sensible format."
- o O o -
Drinks were served by another, smaller drone – complete with a towel folded over one arm. Shara had her stiff double – Chalician rum, Brendan kept an extensively well-stocked bar. Then she had another one. Zyan had a Yarran and nursed it. Brendan offered food, but this close to the end of Passover neither of them really needed to eat.
"We're going to a planet called Opal," Brendan told them. "Killa and Lars were planning on undertaking this mission themselves, and I agreed to play ferry for them for, well, sentimental reasons, I suppose. It was I that first took them there, several decades back now, to investigate the loss of a survey vessel. The survey vessel had happened across a very interesting new form of life," the brain explained, via one of his standard drones which was 'sat' across from them at the mess table.
"And the natives took the exploration crew out, scuttled the ship and made like nothing had happened," Shara nodded with a certain approbation. "Smart."
The drone turned to her, with it's glowing eyebrows raised in surprise. Zyan sighed. "Shara here came up in life on pre-Republican Chalice, as part of the underground," he explained. "Assuming the worst case in any given scenario is second nature to her."
"A valuable and sadly underrated skill," Brendan said diplomatically.
This time, Shara had the grace to look apologetic. "Sorry Brendan," she said. "Zyan here has got a slightly thicker covering on his revolutionary past than I have. Please, continue – no more interruptions from me, I promise."
"My dear Shara, you are perfectly welcome to interrupt as and when you wish," Brendan said. "I find conversations that proceed only along the expected path to be unutterably dull, and if one wants someone's attention, I've always maintained that one has to work for it."
"I knew I was going to like you the minute you scared the shards out of that guy by the airlock," Shara smiled.
"You did not! I'll bet you fifty creds you were figuring out how to disable those drones if you had to," Zyan accused her.
"Shush now Grandad, it's time for your medication," Shara said, and pushed Zyan's drink closer to him. Brendan guffawed.
Shara smiled, then her face went intent. "For the record, you slide a knife in between the two halves of the outer carapace. It's tricky, though. You've got a difficult choice as to the angle you slide that knife in – too shallow and you won't disable the drone, and it shoots you and whoever you're with that was stupid enough to let you try to disable it."
Shara pointed an imaginary gun at Zyan and Brendan-drone's foreheads as she spoke. "But you don't want to stick it in too straight, either, 'cos you'll hit the power supply and fry like an algae fritter in a hot pan at suppertime. Bzzt!" She said, suddenly: Zyan jumped and even Brendan tilted his drone back apprehensively.
"Get it right, though, and the drone drops like a dead weight," she finished, demonstrating with an imaginary knife as she spoke. "Of course, you want to be somewhere else by the time the next drone in the net comes looking to see what happened, unless you want to roll the dice with the knife trick again or get your head splattered all over the nearest wall. Those things never – ever – miss."
Shara stared at the tabletop. Zyan blinked. Brendan's drone said nothing.
"They didn't have combat drones on Djiel?" Shara asked, looking up.
Zyan shook his head. "Nope – a fact I'm profoundly grateful for as of right now."
Brendan's drone went from green to white and became impassive – the servitor drone disappeared into a cabinet. His voice issued from a speaker in the centre of the table, instead. "Shara, I am so terribly sorry, it didn't occur to me to ask: would you prefer that I put my drones into storage for the duration of this assignment? I am aware some rogue organisations and individuals have used drones for nefarious purposes in the past, and I don't wish to bring back any traumatic memories of Chalice."
It was Shara's turn to look surprised. "Oh, shards no. Those little green faces are so cute! I'd never stab your drones!"
"'Unutterably dull' is going to seem like a sharding golden age after three days at FTL, Brendan," Zyan said mischievously. Shara kicked him under the table.
"Ow!"
"Don't be such a baby – I thought you didn't feel pain."
"It's the lack of regard for my feelings that stings," Zyan told her.
Brendan's drone came back to life. He made an electronic throat-clearing noise and pressed bravely on. "To continue: in this case, however, insufficient provision for the hazardous environment was at fault for the loss of life, and nothing worse. The natives turned out to be friendly, once we'd established a means of communication. Killa and Lars deduced that the Jewel Junk – the scientists called them FM units, but as far as I'm concerned they're Junks, and they don't seem to object either - communicated through high-frequency shockwaves. The specialist team that followed in their wake was able to build on that to a certain degree, but it turned out to be a different medium that really opened things up. I'm prevented by FSP confidentiality from telling you too much about this – Opal is still treated as need to know only, to prevent hordes of rubberneckers descending on the place demanding to see the newly discovered aliens – but Lars and Killa scared up some crystal offcuts and retunes and gave them to some of the Jewel Junks. The ones equipped with crystal grew much faster than the others, and following a certain event that proved to be something of a Rosetta stone for the Junks, they started talking to us in our own language."
"Wow – what happened?" Shara asked.
"That's one of the things I'm not permitted to tell anyone, I'm afraid. However, two or three days later the scientific team was amazed and surprised when a new voice came over their comunits bidding them a belated welcome to Opal. They'd become a sort of, well, there's a massive debate over exactly what they are, but certainly some manner of heavily networked intelligence. It settled the sentience argument once and for all, though. They've been learning about us as much as we've been learning about them ever since. One of the things they've asked for recently is more crystal, and Lars and Killa were only too happy to oblige. Your job is to distribute the crystals you've brought with you, and probably re-distribute some of the existing crystals, too," Brendan told them.
"Will the science team have a plan for that?" Zyan asked.
"The Junks will have a plan for that," Brendan answered. "They're the masters of their own destiny, now. There's still a science team, but it's more of an embassy type arrangement these days. The Junks are happy to be observed and to answer as many questions as the scientists can pose, but they've made it politely but firmly clear that they no longer wish to be poked, prodded or probed. Killa made it equally clear that the Guild is providing crystals and assistance as a favour to the Junks, not the scientists. She wasn't overly impressed with their boss, the last time she was there. He's long since gone, but he may have been replaced with another stuffed shirt in the meantime."
Zyan was running numbers internally. Fastest ship in the FSP, eh? "When did the Guildmaster and the Crystal Singer ask you to get involved, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, nine or ten weeks back? Just before those big storms of yours. I was in the area on other business, and they asked me then if I'd be willing to hang around until they were able to wrangle a few days free to come and visit the Junks. As lovely as it is to make your acquaintances, I'm suprised they've handed the assignment to someone else," Brendan confessed.
Well, the timing works out, Zyan thought – the look Shara gave him when his question was answered showed she was thinking the same thing. The Guildmaster and the Crystal Singer had the perfect excuse to have a fast B&B ship on-hand – in case they decided they needed to go after Alenda? Was Brendan more up-to-speed on that than he was letting on, or was he an unwitting cat's paw? If he was a friend of theirs, it seemed unlikely they'd be so deceptive: but then again it was often in a friend's best interests not to burden them with detail that might get them into hot water with the FSP. Lots of questions, few if any answers.
"Thanks Brendan," Zyan said. "We'll do our best not to disgrace the Crystal Singer and the Guildmaster."
"I read about what you managed on Chalice," Brendan replied, "as well as getting an unofficial addendum from Killa, so I'm sure you'll do fine. One other thing she told me was to make all possible speed – I didn't think this was a particularly urgent assignment, but nevertheless I'm always happy to show off. We're currently cruising at standard FTL speeds – fast but nowhere near as fast as I can manage. I can perform Singularity jumps that other, lesser ships can only dream about: but anything biological and living has to be in a shielded radiant tank."
"If it wants to continue to be both biological and living, I'm guessing," Shara said.
"You have, with commendable acuity, seen to the very crux of the issue, Shara dear," Brendan replied with a smile from his drone.
"You are what my more cultured friends refer to as a shameless flatterer, Mr. Drones," Shara told him.
"I do apologise – Boira was always telling me off for the same thing," Brendan replied.
"Nah, keep it coming, all I get from this one is criticisms and complaints," Shara indicated Zyan with a incline of her head. "Keep this coming too, please," she added, holding up her empty glass. She must actually like the taste, Zyan thought – this close after passover, Zyan didn't even really want to finish his beer.
Brendan laughed – the serving drone re-emerged to fulfil the request. "Well, if you don't object to sleeping in a radiant tank for a few hours at a time, I'll do a few jumps and get you to Opal all the quicker," Brendan said, returning to business.
"Not a problem, I love radiant baths," Shara replied.
"Similarly not a problem, although personally the best thing I can say about them is that they're marginally better than the alternative of crystal resonance," Zyan added, with a wrinkled nose. He had never got over his initial disgust of the gloopy semi-liquid.
"When can we get underway?" Shara asked.
"Whenever you're ready," Brendan replied.
"Well, it's been a tough day, one way or another," Zyan answered. "Let's get cracking."