Crystal Line

That threat, combined with pleas from Klera and one of the other senior members of his team, silenced Rudney's objections, and she was allowed to proceed.

Three had been a small, pretty cap of Jewel Junk when she and Lars had first seen it. Sothi, one of the carton carriers, told her that it had insinuated itself down three levels now. Smack dab in the center of its core was the original splinter of pink. Muhlah, if the Junk could do this well with only bloody pink, it would flood with the good green destined for its second crystalline intrusion.

The rest of the observers had filed into the cave by then, and the portable ladder was erected right under the core. Killa hefted the green shaft and peered at it in the radiance to be sure it had not somehow become flawed in transit. She clamped the forceps about the green and, carefully examining the position of the pink splinter, started to insert the new crystal. The moment it touched the opalescence, it was sucked up so rapidly that only her trained reflexes kept her hand from following it into the core. The forceps were gone. In the next instant, the pink splinter fell, and there was a flailing of gloved hands as three people tried to catch it.

"Got it!" Sothi exclaimed, holding up the splinter for all to see.

"More than a mouthful is impolite," Killa said drolly. She hadn't anticipated any success in trying to yank out the old splinter.

"Ooooh!" Klera's exclamation, anxious and fearful, brought everyone's attention back to the core.

"Bloody hell, it swallowed it!" Killa a

"Oh, there it is," Klera went on, pointing as the green slowly came into view again, positioned in the exact center of the core, with two-thirds of its length visible.

"We are monitoring increased activity in Three," was the report from the base.

"No quarrel with that," Killa said, delighted with the effect. And yes, she thought, Boira's theory about pattern talk was an avenue that ought to be explored. She found herself tracking a brilliant display of green, blue, and yellow herringbones that flashed from the core to the floor and disappeared.

"Crystal Singer . . ." Sothi had her by both hands, gripping tightly. "You were swaying . . ."

Killa accepted his help down from the ladder. He pressed his helmet against hers. "Don't watch the patterns, C.S. You lose time that way," he murmured.

Her lapse had gone u

"Does it happen often, Sothi?" she asked.

"Often enough to need to be cautious."

"Which cave is next?" she asked him. In that moment of distraction, she had forgotten.

"Two, which is only a step away," he answered, and suddenly she remembered the entire sequence and where each crystal was supposed to go. Time was not the only thing that you lost following Junk patterns, she thought.

Then, when Sothi would have signaled to Rudney that they were leaving Three, she caught his hand and waggled her finger at him. "C'mon," she said, touching her helmet to his. "We can get this all done in half the time if we leave these science types to talk."

Sothi seemed hesitant, but his companion, whose suit bore the name "Asramantal", pulled him toward the entrance.

Killashandra had done four, with Sothi or Asra neatly catching the discarded slivers, before Rudney and the observers caught up. She ignored Rudney's harangue and continued on her scheduled round. If she kept herself busy, watching her feet on the cindery paths, even doing a bit of pattern watching, with Sothi or Asramantal to pull her out if she dallied too long, she didn't have to think about installing the black in Big Hungry. As they had trudged from one cave to the next, she had confided some of her anxiety to Brendan and Boira.

"Can I count on you two for a bit of help?" she asked.

"What kind?" Boira asked.

"I might have trouble with Big Hungry . . ."

"What sort of trouble?"

"I'm not sure, really. Ah, well, it's mainly that I hate installing blacks anywhere for any reason," she said, trying not to infuse her voice with the anxiety that she could feel building into full-blown stress. Muhlah! This black wasn't being used—not in the normal sense—as a comcrystal. Maybe she was borrowing trouble.

"Feedback?" Brendan asked.

"Like you never felt before," she said.

"What can we do?"

"Stay tuned—and talk me out of the backlash."

"What form does that take?"

"It sings back through me."

"Gives you quite a jolt, huh?"

"That's putting it mildly."

"How do we help?" Boira asked.

"Could you suit up, Boira, and come down to Fifteen for the finale?"

"Sure. Be with you in two strokes of a hand pump. Only what do I do if you do freak out?"

"Get me back to Bren as fast as possible! I think I'll pull out on my own as long as there's distance between me and the black. And, by the way, Boira, your theory about patterns is not so far-fetched. The Junk radiates them in ever-changing displays."

"Hmm. Int—" Boira's voice was cut off.

"Boira?"

"She's in her suit and has not turned on the com," Brendan said in the patient tone of someone who was accustomed to such bungles.

With her confidence shored up by Boira's promise to be present, Killa completed the other installations. On her way to Big Hungry, Killa took a swallow of the suit's emergency ration—and immediately wished she hadn't. Somehow she had been expecting something considerably more palatable.

"Yecht!" she muttered.

"What's the matter?" Brendan asked.

"The suit's food!"

"Oh? So you do appreciate the lengths to which I went for you the last time?"

"If that's what I thought I was getting, yes." And the memory of more delectable flavors was indeed vivid in her mind.

She had no time for a pleasant review, for she had reached the cave entrance. Boira stood out from the others lining the big cavern: her suit was not only a vivid citron yellow but of a different design. She lifted her gloved hand in a salute to Killashandra. That alerted the other suited figures. Killa guessed that every member of Rudney's team who could be spared from the laboratory was now present. There was a jumble of comments that told her that there had been a draw to see who got to attend. Killa also heard excited reports from the few technicians still ma

"Watch out, you guys and gals," Killashandra said as Sothi and Asra positioned the ladder under the core. "You ain't seen nothing' yet."

"What precisely do you mean by that remark, Crystal Singer?" Rudney demanded, his apprehension reflected in his voice as well as the sudden stiffening of his suited figure.

Killa had been talking to bolster her own confidence and wished Rudney didn't require so many explanations of casual comments. She sighed as she clamped the forceps firmly about the black. If she could avoid touching it at all, its effect on her would be reduced. She had gotten the hang of jamming crystal into cores now, and she didn't plan to bungle this final, and most crucial, insertion.

"Watch and observe, Dr. Saplinson-Trill." She extended her arm, noting that Sothi and Asra stood ready to catch the old splinter. Oh, Muhlah! She swore silently as a new thought struck her. This wasn't the last she had to install. There were all the old slivers to be put into the new Junks.

"Observe what?"

"Wait and see," she said. Taking a deep breath, she touched the black to the Junk, quiveringly ready to drop forceps and all at any sign that the black was going to react.

The black shaft was ingested so swiftly her reflexes had no time respond. Forceps, crystal, and her gloved hand were pulled into the sudden maelstrom of frenzied, turbulent patterns that cascaded down the Junk—and flowed through Killashandra with such devastating force that she felt her death was imminent! Her whole life flashed across her mind, pushing her down into black oblivion.