Crystal Singer (10 page)

“The other, and basically the most important negative factor, is that a Singer cannot remain too long away from Ballybran’s peculiar ecology. The symbiont must recharge itself from its native place.
Its
death means the death of the host—a rather unpleasant one, for death from extreme old age occurs within a period inversely related to the host’s elapsed lifespan.”

“How long can a Singer stay away from Ballybran without ill effect?” Killashandra asked, thinking of Carrik and his reluctance to return.

“Depending on the strength of the initial adaptation, and that varies, for periods of up to four hundred days. A Singer is not required to be absent for longer than two hundred days on assignment off-planet. Two hundred and fifty days is suitable for leisure. Sufficient, I assure you, for most purposes.”

Killashandra, seated behind the space worker, saw Carigana draw breath for another question, but Borella had changed the hologram to show a human writhing in the grip of a shaking fever, all too reminiscent of the hypothermia that had affected Carrik. The man was seized by massive convulsions. As the focus lightened first to his hands, then his chest and face, he aged from an athletic person in his third, possibly fourth decade, to a wrinkled and dehydrated, hairless, shrunken corpse in the time it took viewers to gasp.

“He was one of the first Singers to make a successful symbiotic adaptation. He died, regrettably, at Weasust while setting up the black quartz relay station for that sector of the FSP. It was the first time a Singer had been absent for a prolonged period, but that particular danger had not yet been recognized.”

“Did you know him?” Shillawn asked with a perception that surprised Killashandra, for she had wondered the same thing.

“Yes, I did. He trained me in the field,” Borella replied, dispassionately.

Killashandra made some mental calculations and regarded the flawless complexion and erect figure of their mentor with surprise.

“Is that Milekey man still alive?” Carigana asked.

“No. He died during a major fault in the range which bears his name.”

“I thought this symbiont kept you from broken bones and wounds?”

“The symbiont provides increased recuperative ability but cannot replace a severed head on a body whose wounds have resulted in complete blood loss. For less drastic injuries—”and she pulled the gown aside from her left leg.

Rimbol’s soft whistle of astonishment summed up Killashandra’s amazement, too. They had all seen the purple bruising and lacerations: now the contusions were faintly yellow splotches, and the wounds were visibly closing.

“What about those for whom the symbiont doesn’t work?” asked the undaunted Carigana.

“The main purpose of the intensive physical examination was to evaluate rejection and blood factors, tissue health, and chromosome patterns against those of the known successful adaptations.” A graph appeared on the screen, the line indicating success rising triumphantly over the past three decades where it had hovered in minor peaks over a span of three hundred or more years. “Your tests indicate no undesirable factors evaluated against records now dating back over three hundred twenty-seven standard years. You all have as good a chance as possible of achieving complete acceptance by the symbiont—”

“The odds are five to one against.”

Killashandra wondered if Carigana gave even the time of day in that same hostile tone.

“No longer,” Borella replied, and a light appeared on the upward swing of the graph line. “It’s now better than one out of three. There are still factors not yet computed which cause only partial adaptation. I am compelled by FSP law to emphasize that.”

“And then?”

“That person obviously becomes one of the 20,007 technicians,” Shillawn said.

“I asked
her
.” Carigana gave Shillawn a scathing glance.

“The young man is, however, right.”

“And technicians never leave Ballybran.” Carigana’s glance slid from Borella to Shillawn, and it was obvious what her assessment of Shillawn’s chances were.

“Not without severe risk of further impairment. The facilities on Ballybran, however, are as complete as—”

“Except you can’t ever leave.”

“As you are not yet there,” Borella continued imperturbably, though Killashandra had the notion the Singer enjoyed sparring with the space worker, “the problem is academic and can remain so.” She turned to the others. “As I was about to point out, the odds have been reduced to three out of five. And improving constantly. The last class produced thirty-three Singers from thirty-five candidates.

“Besides the problem of symbiont adaptation required for existence on Ballybran, there is an additional danger, of the more conventional type.” She went on less briskly, allowing her comments on the odds to be absorbed. “Ballybran’s weather.” The screen erupted into scene of seas lashed into titanic waves, landscapes where ground cover had been pulped. “Each of the three moons contains weather stations, and sixteen permanent satellites scan the surface constantly.

“Scoria, our primary, has a high incidence of sun-spot activity.” A view of the sun in eclipse supported that statement as flares leaped dramatically from behind the eclipsing moon’s disk. A second occluded view showed the primary’s dark blotches. “This high activity, plus the frequent conjunction of the moons’ orbits, a triple conjunction being the most dangerous obviously, ensure that Ballybran has interesting weather.”

A bark of laughter for such understatement briefly interrupted Borella, but her patient smile suggested that the reaction was expected. Then the screen showed breathtaking conjunction of the moons’ orbits.

“When the meteorological situation becomes unstable, even in terms of Ballybran’s norms, the planet is subjected to storms which have rated the euphemism, mach storm. As the crystal ranges of Ballybran extend downward rather than up,”—the screen obediently provided a view from a surface vehicle traversing the down ranges at speed—“one might assume that one need only descend far enough below the planet’s surface to avoid the full brunt of wind and weather. A fatal assumption. The ranges constitute the worst danger.” The view changed to a rapid series of photographs of people, their expressions ranging from passive imbecility to wild-eyed violence. “The winds of the mach storm stroke the crystal to such sonic violence that a human, even one perfectly adapted to his symbiont, can be driven insane by sound.

“The vehicles provided by the Guild for Singers’ use have every known warning device, although the most effective one is lodged in the bodies of the Singers themselves; the symbiont, which is more sensitive to the meteorological changes than any instrument man can create. Sometimes the human element overcomes the keen senses of the symbiont, and a Singer is impervious to warnings.

“Such injury is the main reason for the tithe levied by the Guild on all active members. You may be certain of the best possible care should such an accident befall you.”

“You said the symbiont increased recuperative ability for structural damage.” the irrepressible Carigana began.

“A broken mind is scarcely a physiological problem. Within its scope, the symbiont is a powerful protector. It is not in itself sentient, so though it could restore damaged brain tissue, it cannot affect what man chooses to designate ‘soul’.”

Somehow Borella’s tone managed to convey the notion that Carigana might not possess that commodity. Killashandra was not the only one to catch that nuance, which apparently eluded its intended target.

“How was the symbiont first discovered?” Killashandra asked, determined that Carigana was not going to dominate the session.

“By the first prospector, Milekey. He made a successful adaptation with the spore, considering the transition illness to be only some irritating infection.”

“He wasn’t the only one on that mission, according to the fax,” Shillawn said.

“No, he wasn’t, though the deaths of the other members of his geology team were not at first linked to Ballybran. Milekey made several excursions into the ranges to examine crystal faces and cut new types for evaluation. He also helped develop the first effective cutter. His personal tapes indicate that he felt a strong compulsion to return to Ballybran frequently, but, at the time, it was thought that this was merely due to his interest in the crystal and the increasing uses to which it could be put. He also did not connect his ability to avoid the storms to the presence of the symbiont.

“This aspect was discovered when the transition disease struck Cutter after Cutter, leaving crystalized bodies similar to those in the hall.”

“There’s one that was charred,” Rimbol said, swallowing against nausea.

“And that is the third danger of Ballybran. Fortunately not as prevalent these days since common sense and education in the use of equipment decrease the probability. The crystal ranges can build up localized high-voltage and sonic charges near which ordinary communits do not operate properly, nor do other types of electrical equipment, some of which are necessary to the operation of sleds and conveniences. Fireballs can occur. And, despite all the precautions, a Singer can be volatilized. It is a danger we must mention.”

“You say that those who do not make a good adaptation to the symbiont specialize in technical work—but what constitutes a poor adaptation?” Jezerey asked, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.

“Some impairment of one or more of the normal physical senses. But this is often coupled with an extension to the other senses not impaired.”

“What senses?” Shillawn asked, his thin throat muscles working as if he had trouble getting the words out.

“Generally hearing is impaired.” Borella gave a slight smile. “That’s considered a blessing. No shielding has ever been invented to silence the full fury of a mach storm. Often eyesight increases into the ultraviolet or infrared spectra, with an ability in some to sense magnetic fields. Increased tactile sensitivity has enabled artistically inclined guildsmen to produce some of the most treasured art of modern times. There is, however, no way of predicting what form the impairment will take, nor what compensation will be effected.”

“Have you pretty pictures of the victims?”

“The handicaps are rarely visible, Carigana.”

“The handicap plus sterility plus immolation on a storm-lashed planet in exchange for a greatly increased lifespan? That constitutes the Code 4?”

“It does. You have thus been duly informed of the risks and the permanent alteration to your chemistry and physical abilities. Any further pertinent questions?”

“Yes. If you say there are more Singers these days, how does that affect individual profit with so many cutting in the ranges?” asked Carigana.

“It doesn’t,” Borella replied, “not with the expanding galactic need for the communications link provided only by black quartz from Ballybran; not when Singers are capable, quick and cautious; not when there are people, like yourself, motivated to succeed in joining our select band.”

Attuned as her ear was to nuances in vocal tone, Killashandra did not quite perceive how Borella could deliver such a scathing reprimand with no variation in the pitch or timbre of her voice. Yet a sudden flush of humiliation colored Carigana’s space-tan skin.

“How often are there injuries like yours?” a girl asked from the back of the theater.

“Frequently,” Borella replied with cheerful unconcern. “But I’ll be back in the ranges”—Killashandra caught the note of longing, for it was the first time emotion had shown in the Singer’s contained voice—“in a day or two.”

“Singing crystal is worth such risks, then?” Killashandra heard herself ask.

Borella’s eyes sought hers and held them as a slow smile crossed her lips.

“Yes, singing crystal is worth any risk.” The force of that quiet statement caused a silence. “I shall leave you to discuss the matter among yourselves. When you have made your decision, just follow me.” She moved toward the door at the side of the platform. It opened and closed with a soft
whoosh
behind her.

Killashandra looked over at Shillawn and Rimbol, noticed that the others were seeking emotional support from their nearest neighbors. Carigana, deep in a sullen mood, was pointedly ignored. Killashandra rose to her feet with an energy that attracted all eyes.

“I made up my mind before I ever arrived,” she said. “And I don’t scare easily, anyhow!”

She strode down the steps toward the exit, hearing the movement of others behind her, though she didn’t turn her head. A curious elation, tinged with apprehension and a certain fearfulness, seized her as she passed the portal. Then it was too late.

Killashandra wasn’t sure what she had expected to find on the other side of the door panel. She half thought Borella might be present to see how many had not been deterred. Instead, she was surprised to find uniformed members of the FSP Civil Service, their faces and attitudes as grave as if they were at a disintegration or interment. The senior officer motioned her to follow the first person in line, a male who, in turn, gestured Killashandra toward another of the cubicles that seemed to infest all levels of the moon base. Behind her, she heard the surprised intake of breath of whichever candidate had directly followed her.

A slab table and two chairs occupied the small room. She moved toward one seat, but the officer’s gesture stopped her.

“Bontel Aba Gray, Rank 10, FSP Civil Service, Shankill Moon Base, Ballybran, date 23/4/3308: applicant will present identity to the outlet, stating aloud name, rank, and planet of origin.”

Only after Killashandra had disgustedly complied with the formality was she allowed to seat herself opposite Bontel Gray.

“Is it true that you have received physical, psychological, and aptitude tests under the auspices of the Heptite Guild?”

“Yes.”

“You have been informed of the hazards involved in the Code 4 classification of the planet Ballybran?”

“Yes.” She wondered how Carigana was accepting the additional aggravation. That is, if Carigana had passed through the door.

Gray then questioned her in depth on Borella’s lecture. Each of Killashandra’s answers was recorded—but for
whose
protection, Killashandra wondered. She was reaching her aggravation point when he stopped.